Devour
by sachi-sama
Summary: Monsters lurk around every corner in the seedy night streets of London. But the worst monsters are always the ones inside the mind, because they're the most impossible to escape from. UkUs dark!fic.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello to you! I'm writing another UKUS fic so I can play more with history and Hetalia! For those of you who don't know me, nice to meet you! I'm Sachi, and I'm weird. Now, this is going to be a little different from the things I normally write. By "different" I mean…dark. Very, very dark. If any of you read my DRRR! stories, yes, even darker than WTCF. It's going to contain very strong themes, and I mean more than just lemon. If this doesn't sound like your cup of tea, I suggest leaving. To everyone else, let's get started!_

_**Disclaimer: **__I, Sachi, do not own __Hetalia__ or any of the characters. Nor do I own any of the songs used in the chapter headings. I am eating hamburgers with America later though. So, you know…whatever that entitles me to…_

* * *

_Devour_

_(Marilyn Manson)_

_[I'll swallow up all of you like a big bottle of big, big pills… You're the one that I should never take, but I can't sleep until I devour you. I can't sleep until I devour you. You're a flower that's withering. I can't feel your thorns in my head. This is no impressionability. You're not crying, this is blood all over me. You're not crying, this is blood all over me. You're not crying, this is blood all over me. And I'll love you, if you let me. And I'll love you, if you won't make me starve.]_

The first time it happened… That first time.

It seems so long ago, it almost seems useless to mention. Of course, in order to explain the story from the beginning, we need to visit there. That first time.

She was an undesirable. Some unknown woman of the night, which is a nice way of calling her a whore.

Yes, that first woman, with her petticoats, lace, bodice, and cheap high heels. She probably didn't have a family, so she most likely would not have been missed. She was selling her body, and she would not go inside until she had a taker.

That was her mistake.

She had one, all right. Her last taker.

Of course, he wasn't interested in her body. At least, not the way she wanted him to be.

He only needed her to help him with something. Unfortunately, his _release _wasn't quite what she thought it would be.

He took her into the room she was standing outside, most likely some sort of hotel. He wasn't really paying attention.

She turned away from him to unbutton the first few buttons on her chest, and that's when he struck.

He punched her in the back of the neck, listening to the satisfying crack her skull made as she hit the hard floor.

He used a shiny scalpel, his movements messy and undetermined. He knew _where_ to cut, but was having a hard time keeping his hand steady.

It wasn't so much that he was afraid. No, he was…lost in pleasure.

Each cut felt so fucking _good._

That was the first time, and oddly enough, that particular body was never discovered. He had chosen wisely.

He went on to become a doctor, and every day was spent trying to contain his lust for blood.

Unfortunately for Doctor Arthur Kirkland, such a thirst cannot be contained for long, and in the dark streets of London, he will find more victims yet to come, and meet his fate in ways he would have never thought possible.

_[My pain's not ashamed to repeat itself. Pain's not ashamed to repeat itself, pain's not ashamed to repeat itself, pain's not ashamed to repeat itself. I can't sleep until I devour you. I can't sleep until I devour you. I can't sleep until I devour you. I can't sleep until I devour you. I can't sleep until I devour you. And I'll love you, if you let me. And I'll love you, if you won't make me starve.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: *party dance* I'm excited for this story! I know this chapter was short, but they'll get much longer._

_ America: *cough* I know what you have planned… And I'm concerned…_

_ England: Oh, you're afraid?_

_ America: No! Heroes aren't scared of anything! Shut up stupid Man Brows!_

_ England: What?!_

_ Sachi: *sigh* Review for love and a quicker update! Hope to see you all next chapter!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Ah, I'm glad most of you seem to enjoy the dark theme! I think it's necessary to do these types of stories every now and then, because there are certain areas of the mind, yes, even yours, that will scare you. It's better to meet them head on than to cower in fear. With that said, let's get on to the love for those who reviewed! __Ember Hinote__, ding, ding, dinnnnng! Yes, Jack the Ripper for the win! I love him, he's just so amazingly twisted. I thought Arthur could fit the profile, with a few tweaks of course. So glad you're into it! __incidentalmusic__, heh, I know you are! Hope your minutes were good~. __Fynniona__, lust, eh? Well, we all know the feeling! Glad you're with me again! Your fanart is just so lovely! __luckycat222__, creepy is a great theme! It grabs attention! __Shite Anonym__, I think we all enjoy the dark theme, huh? Ah, it's okay to like it. If you think you're twisted for reading such a thing, just remember, I'm the one writing it, haha. Now, enough rambles! Let's get on with the story!_

* * *

_Not Even Jail_

_(Interpol)_

_[I'll lay down my glasses. I'll lay down in houses, if things come alive. I'll subtract pain by ounces. Yeah, I will start painting houses, if things come alive. I promise to commit no acts of violence, neither physical, or otherwise, if things come alive. I'll say it now. I'll say it now. Say it now, oh, I'll say it now. 'Cause I want it now.]_

The doctor sighed loudly as he poured over a patient's file in the dim lit room. He knew he should have finished his paperwork earlier, but his mind was…wandering.

That first time, the time he never tried to think about… He _always _thought of it.

Of course, that had been years ago. It was a moment's weakness, or so he told himself.

His father had once told him murderous intent was common in the hearts of men, but he had always chalked it up to his dad's lack of concern for other's wellbeing.

Something Arthur had seemed to inherit.

His mother was… Ah, his mother.

Such a one of a kind woman. She often reminded Arthur how he was never supposed to have existed. How he was an accident, and most importantly, how he didn't matter.

Good grades, medical school, and now a respected doctor, and his parents were both dead.

Fate was indeed a cruel mistress.

He had no one to say "I told you so" to. He had no one left to be proud of him, besides himself. What was he to do?

Success is one thing, but happiness is another. Both are hard to obtain, but the latter can be the most impossible, if one is not in the right frame of mind.

Arthur knew he had a few screws loose. It wasn't exactly hard to figure out.

Ah, but we are getting ahead of ourselves. Back to the paperwork.

Arthur's mint green eyes roamed over it listlessly. He tried to focus on the words he was scribbling.

_Patient is experiencing severe abdominal pain…_

That first time…he had plunged the scalpel into the stomach carefully, cutting just enough to peer inside…

_Patient has trouble standing due to…_

Weight on top of her. Holding her down, killing her while she was unconscious. The screams would have been better, but… He didn't want to get caught. Instead, he opted to feel inside of her entrails, feeling her life heave her slowly. That had been the best way.

_Severe nausea…_

He had never once felt sick because of it. No, quite the contrary. He would think about it, and become more and more…

_Doctor recommends?_

A knock at the door interrupted him.

"Yes?" he called toward the wooden frame. It was rather late, and he had a feeling he knew who would be at the other side of the door.

"Doctor! Why in God's good name are you still here so late?" Nurse Michelle asked him. Her brown hair was pulled into her usual two pigtails, and her dark eyes were wide.

"You know I had extra work to do, Chelles," he replied casually, not bothering to grant her a second glance.

The woman often voiced her concerns over his concentration for work. She told him he needed to go home and sleep more.

If she knew what he dreamed of, she would never suggest such a thing.

"You _always_ seem to have extra work to do," she sighed. "Don't be here all night, Doctor. Your eyes will be tired tomorrow. And it's not right to be on these streets so late, you know."

"And why is that?" he asked, picking up his neglected cup of tea. It was rather cold, but Arthur was never the type to waste.

"There are strange folk out this time of night. You'll catch your death!" she warned.

He only laughed at her, setting his cup down as his other hand waved her away.

"Don't be ridiculous, Chelles. You're the one most likely in danger here. Women seem to be the most often attacked."

She rolled her eyes at him as she bade him goodnight. He heard the door click as she took her leave.

Yes, he had considered killing her. You would have too if you were forced to hear her incessant ramblings about safety and health.

Yes, she was a nurse, but _come on_. Even the bloody Lord took a goddamn day off.

He decided against such a thing. She worked for him, and it would easily be traced back to him. Not to mention, as annoying as she could be, she was a good person.

Doctor Arthur Kirkland was not a heartless man. He was just a little tweaked, but who wasn't?

Wearily, he glanced down at the papers once more. He could barely make heads or tails of his own writing at this point, and was considering just going home to sleep off the sudden craving.

But…what good would that do? That's what he had done every night for years now. Ignore the urge, go home, think about it while jerking off, and then go to bed.

What good did that do him?

Maybe…he could do it one more time? Just one more, of course. It could only help him, right?

Every addict needed one last fix. One last high…

The pages were glaring up at him in the almost dead light from the oil lamp.

_Doctor recommends?_

Immediate release, stat. Conscience be damned.

_[I pretend like no one else, to try to control myself. I'm subtle like a lion's cage, such a cautious display. Remember take hold of your time here, give some meanings to the means to your end… Not even jail.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Yes, Seychelles is Michelle. I can still call her 'Chelles' that way!_

_ America: When do I come in?!_

_ England: I like being the main focus here. It gives the story depth._

_ America: Depth is stupid._

_ England: You're stupid._

_ Sachi: *sigh* Review for love! We're starting to get into the twisted fun. I can't wait~!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello, my dears! So sorry for the delay, I had some issues with my internet, and something that should have been easily resolved somehow took an entire week to fix. I hate stupid people, ugh. Anywho~ WOW! I get so much support from such a dark story! I'm glad many of you think we could use more of this theme, because I thought so too. So, I got home from a long day of work, got a box of pocky, and here I am, updating for you! Let's get on to your love, shall we? Fy__nion__na, Arthur's thoughts will be very scattered in this story, haha. Glad to have you with me! Quiet. Crash, heartbroken?! I told you that story would be sad! I think you were totally prepared, and you loved it anyway! Eh, I'm not really into France. He gets on my nerves, haha. No promises on the killing! Shite Anonym, aww, thank you! I'm glad someone likes it! Ember Hinote, I am exhausted also, so I understand your brain being spent. luckycat222, Alfred will be introduced shortly! Rebel Lenses, ERMAHGERD, I KNOW! I find the dark theme lets me act insane, and I can blame it on the characters. Muahaha. enterthtaiga, I thought the fandom could use it tooooooo! Happy you like it! 91RedRoses, Arthur needs to realize he is more than just a "little tweaked" haha. England can't be nicer to him, I don't think. Poor America. darkestlight96, I never really looked at WTCF as being dark, really. It was sad, but not dark. Tropic-Lover, awww, I'm happy you like my A/N's! I mostly just ramble in them, haha. kokichi, haha, glad you like it thus far! BrokenHeartedWarrior, hehe, he has quite the twisted idea planned~. Mystic Dewdrop, glad you think so! unaXcosaXbella, sorry for the long wait! Glad you think it's awesome! Now, enough rambling, ON WITH THE STORAAAAHHHHH!_

* * *

_Judith_

_(A Perfect Circle)_

_[You're such an inspiration for the ways that I'll never ever choose to be. Oh, so many ways for me to show you how the savior has abandoned you. Fuck your god, your lord and your Christ. He did this, took all you had and left you this way. Still you pray, you never stray, never taste of the fruit. You never thought to question why.]_

The streets were foggy. It was always so on nights such as these.

The moon was hidden behind a small sliver of clouds, and though it was the summer months, there was an undeniable chill in the air. It was far past midnight, though how far, the lone silhouette knew not.

All he knew was the pounding in his veins. It was far more than a heartbeat, far more than living. Just because he was breathing, it didn't mean _life_.

No, life comes from certain things done to make oneself complete. In moments of true living, one need not question how it would feel.

It would just be known. It would click into place like a puzzle piece. It would _fit._

The footsteps continued, the lone soldier fighting the weariness of his day. His were the only sounds made, aside from the occasional cricket chirp or door creaking from the wind.

Yes, he was exhausted, extremely so, but he could not take one more night of monotony. What was the point?

He froze when he heard another pair of footsteps clicking near him.

Clicking.

Clicking.

CLICKING.

It was the sound of heels, no doubt.

And what self-respecting woman would be out so late in heels?

His heartbeat sped up to the point of deafening him as it screamed in his ears. His legs yelled at him to GO, but his body was stiff with excitement.

As his hands began to shake, his legs carried him forward, toward the clicking.

He saw a shadow, more near him than he had expected. He froze as he saw the silhouette turn toward him.

"Hello?" a woman's voice called. It was raspy, possibly from smoking, or from talking too much.

He was betting more on the latter.

She became more visible for some reason, and Arthur realized it was because his legs were carrying him forward again.

This woman was short. He was able to make out wispy brown hair, although it was beginning to turn more gray than anything else. He couldn't make out much else, and didn't really care to.

"Were you looking for some company, dear?" she asked, her voice trying to imitate a purr.

A prostitute. _Of course._

One who…was not of use to society… One who would most likely not be missed…

"Were you offering me some?" he asked, his voice laced with hidden excitement.

Without a word, she took his hand and led him toward a small building. They were hidden entirely by blackness on one side, and illuminated with a streetlamp on the other. He could see her much more clearly.

Her eyes were gray, made more noticeable by sunken cheekbones. Her face was sullen, despite her eager front.

She was rather stout, and when she smiled at him, he could not help but notice a distinct lack of teeth.

She looked as though…she were dead already.

"Did you have somewhere for us to go?" she asked.

He thought for a moment.

He couldn't exactly take her to his home, because that would be too obvious. Getting a room would only create witnesses.

"What's wrong with right here?" he inquired, grinning when her eyes grew wide.

"Here? _Outside? _Rather adventurous, aren't you?"

"I've been told so before," he said.

Arthur watched as she lowered to her knees, but she never made it to her destination.

Acting quickly, he shoved her away from him. Her eyes looked up at him questioningly, and when she saw him reaching in his pocket, she opened her mouth as if to scream.

Arthur's mind clouded in panic. That was the only danger of being outside. If anyone was out this late…

His thoughts were broken when he felt a pain in his hand. Looking down, he saw the woman lying on the ground, whimpering.

He…didn't remember punching her…but the throbbing in his hand and her cupping her jaw told him otherwise. His body seemed to have moved on its own.

She seemed to have been stunned by the sudden blow, but she was still conscious. Arthur licked his lips in anticipation, and pulled her by her feet more into the darkness behind the building.

He crawled over her, pulling out his scalpel. Slowly, his hands trembling so much it was amazing he didn't massacre her, he made an incision below the jawline, trailing toward her ear. Immediately, blood spurted out, and she opened her mouth to scream again.

But his hand covered her mouth, his fingers digging into her face enough to bruise. She thrashed about below him, but a few more punches stopped her movements, and thankfully, her useless whining.

Breathing deeply, willing his body to calm down, he made another incision in her neck, both sides this time, severing her main arteries. She was now entirely limp under him, and the warm red blood was starting to surround them both.

He licked his lips again as he trailed the scalpel lower. He made a few cuts here and there, focusing on her abdomen and a few on her thighs. He took care in switching the blade to his left hand every other cut, to eliminate the theory that the killer was right-handed.

He was not interested in her sexually. No, her body did nothing to get him off, at least while it was living.

Now, her totally defenseless under him, at his mercy, the life leaving her slowly…

He was her god at this moment. He was all she would ever know in her final moments.

It was so pleasurable… It was… It was…

Living. Here, he was alive.

Throwing his head back, gasping for the air he hadn't realized he had been withholding, he gave the sky above a small smile.

This time though, he wanted everyone to see his handiwork. He wanted to be remembered, to strike fear into anyone's hearts who dared to be roaming the streets late night.

He wanted the credit he had never received for anything he had accomplished. He _needed_ it.

As he dragged her body out into the main street near the lamp, he was met with an inevitable realization.

He only felt truly alive when he was killing. In order to feel anything, he had to repeat the actions.

And, he knew it would have to be soon.

_[It's not like you killed someone. It's not like you drove a hateful spear into his side. Praise the one who left you broken down and paralyzed. He did it all for you. He did it all for you.]_

* * *

___Sachi: :D_

_America: ..._

_England: Why...am I so fucked up in this story?! _

_Sachi: I like you better this way. You're less stuffy and boooorrrriiiiinnnng._

_America: Hahahahaha! Iggy's boring!_

_England: *huffs*_

_Sachi: Review for love and a quicker update! Till next time!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Yay, an early update! I suppose it's the least I can do, since you waited so long for chapter 3. (yeah…sorry again.) So, I decided, since I'm impatient, and since I know you probably would like one, to update now! Also, I'm totally suffering from Insomnia, so I figure I should be productive. Now, let's get on to your love! __BrokenHeartedWarrior__, thank you! __ncalkins__, I'm one of those weird people who think serial killers are fascinating. I know a lot about a lot of them, and trust me, learning how the mind works is the best tool against them. I agree about dark fics! They are fun to read, but even more fun to write! :D __Rebel Lenses__, awww, thanks for liking my postscripts! They're fun to write. __luckycat222__, you like my postscripts too? YES! I think England is uptight, but could probably party…when drunk. Hehehe. __Quiet. Crash__, America will be here sooooon! You were too prepared! *pets* Just accept it… Hehe. __darkestlight96__, ooooh, England won't be happy you agree with America and me… Oh well. He'll be strong. __Fynniona__, don't die! You need to stay alive to read more! And uh…maybe some fanart… *cough, cough* Now, I love you all! Thanks for the support! On with the creepy England madhouse of a story!_

* * *

_We're From America_

_(Marilyn Manson)_

_[We're from America, we're from America, where we eat our young. We're from America, we're from America, it's where Jesus was born. We're from America, we're from America, where they let you cum on their faces. We're from America, we're from America, we speak American. We don't believe in credibility, because we know that we're fucking incredible. We don't believe in credibility, because we know that we're fucking incredible. I want to be a martyr, don't wanna be a victim, be a killer with a gun so they call me a hero. I want to be a martyr, don't wanna be a victim, be a killer with a gun so they call me a hero. God is an excuse, God is an excuse, God is an excuse, God is an excuse, God is an excuse, God is an excuse, God is an excuse. So sing it with me!]_

"Doctor Kirkland, you look awful," Nurse Michelle remarked the next day. It was early outside, as it always was when they arrived for work. Arthur had paperwork to finish before he could see patients.

"Thank you, Chelles. It's good to know that," he said dryly. What else could he have said? He only got about two hours of sleep, because the rest of the night was spent reliving his newest murder.

"You should get more sleep. It's unhealthy to stay up so late."

"No, really? Because I thought I was a doctor, and you weren't. So maybe you should just file things and be quiet."

She glared at him, but chose not to comment. Arthur was known for being cranky in the morning, and she normally didn't even try to talk to him until after noon.

"Edgar Boone is coming to see you today. He says he has chest pain," Michelle said after a few moments.

"When is he not here?"

Boone was known for always wanting something to be wrong with him. Arthur diagnosed him once with "Acute Hypochondria", but Boone had thought it was a literal disease for about a week.

"He'll be your first patient today. You don't have many… I think you'll find the last one interesting," she informed him.

"Oh? Who is it?"

"You'll see."

The morning went by rather slowly, as it always did. Arthur humored Boone, who thought he was having a heart attack.

"Does your left arm hurt?" he had asked him.

"No, but my chest hurts every now and then."

"Do you get dizzy at all? Shortness of breath?"

"No, just pain."

"…If you were having a heart attack, you'd already be dead by now. I'll see you next week, I suppose," Arthur sighed, cueing Michelle to help Boone out of their office.

By the afternoon, Arthur had his head in his hands, and was ready to go. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep.

Maybe…fantasize about the latest slaying…maybe…relive it again…and again.

"Hello!" a happy voice called. Arthur glared at the source, not liking the interruption.

He was met with a pair of startling blue eyes, covered by glasses. The face was adorably round, and framed by sandy blonde hair. On the top of the blonde mop was a cowlick, which swayed with every move the man made.

"Ah, Alfred Jones! You're right on time!" Michelle said, rising to greet him. Arthur could see why she was excited by the man's presence. He was…cute.

"Where's the doc?" Alfred asked.

"Right here," Arthur said stiffly, not liking the fact that he had just thought of another man as "cute".

Alfred flashed him a bright smile, almost making the doctor squint. He walked over briskly, and shook Arthur's hand eagerly.

"Nice to meet you! You're the first physician I've seen since I came here! Just need to make sure I don't have a cold, you know. I've had a fever these past few days, and my mother wasn't happy when I said so in my letter. She threatened to come here and beat me up if I didn't go!"

"Came here? Where are you…from?"

"America!"

Arthur had never met an American, since travel was such a hassle. He knew the man would have had to take a rather lengthy boat ride to make it to England.

"All the way overseas? Why are you here then?"

"I'm a student studying other cultures and art styles on the side," Alfred said. "I'm here for about two months, and then I'm off to France."

"_France?"_

"…Yes? They're very well known for their art."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur motioned for the sandy blonde to sit on the edge of the table so he could check his vitals. Michelle was in the corner, eyeing Alfred like a piece of meat.

"Chelles, why don't you go finish my last bit of paperwork?" Arthur called over to her. She went slowly, still trying to crane her neck to look at the blonde, who was swinging his feet off the table happily.

"So, I noticed you said art was 'on the side'. Is there a reason for that?" the doctor asked, placing his stethoscope on Alfred's chest under his shirt.

"Oh, um… My dad isn't really into art. I like it a lot, but he wasn't willing to have me travel so far…just for art…"

Arthur listened to the strong heartbeat in his ears, and stiffened when his fingertips brushed the smooth skin on Alfred's chest. He jerked his hand away, and moved to place the stethoscope on the blonde's back instead.

"Cough for me, please," he instructed.

Alfred did so, and the doctor could find no traces of liquid.

"You sound healthy to me. It's most likely just a cold, like you said. Is your fever very bad?"

"You're the doctor, you tell me," Alfred grinned, grabbing Arthur's hand and placing it on his forehead. Arthur's eyes went wide, and he couldn't help but feel…a flash of heat not at all related to a fever.

"You…do feel rather…warm…"

"Bad warm?" Alfred asked fearfully, not liking the grim look on the doctor's face.

"No, no, not bad. It's okay, just try to drink plenty of fluids and dress warmly at night."

Alfred grinned at him and hopped off the table.

"Thanks, doc!"

Without another word, the man left the office, waving goodbye over his shoulder. Arthur watched him leave, an odd sort of interest in his thoughts.

Then, it struck him. The entire time Alfred was in the room, Arthur had not once thought of the woman he killed the night before. Not _once_. As to what that meant, he wasn't sure.

From the back room, Michelle's indignant voice was heard.

"You let my future husband _leave!_ I hate you!"

Oh, how he should have just killed her ages ago.

_[We're from America, we're from America, we're from America! Can you sing it with me?! We're from America, we're from America, we're from America, can you sing it with me?!]_

* * *

___Sachi: Yayyyy, America!_

_America: Yayyyy, me!_

_England: Ugh, there goes the seriousness of this story._

_America: We apologize. Iggy's on his man-period this week, so he's being bitchy._

_England: What!_

_Sachi: Review for love! he next update should be soon, but we'll seeeeee. Your author likes to be lazy sometimes. :D_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello, my lovelies! I hope you all had a great holiday. Mine was lacking, but that's because I don't really have any family. But that's okay. I spent time with my insane sister, so all is well. Now I'm working diligently to produce this chapter for you! So let's get on with it! __BrokenHeartedWarrior__, haha, I know! Such an awkward crush~ I wonder how he'll accept it? __Shite Anonym__, we were all waiting for Alfred to arrive! I'm glad you like Michelle! No one else does. __Quiet. Crash__, Arthur probably couldn't handle if Chelles tried to take Alfred… Awww…Delic lives on! In our hearts~! __luckycat222__, awww, I don't mind at all if you don't like her! She will be the generic female character anyway. Yay, The Hobbit! I haven't seen it yet, but I will soon enough. __Rebel Lenses__, awwwww, so glad you like it! I love writing America, haha. He adds comedic relief. __Ember Hinote__, not many seemed to like Chelles. Ah, well. She's not really a main part anyway, so it's fine~. I love the darkness/cuteness too! __incidentalmusic__, I love you too! __Fynniona__, yes, Chelles best watch herself. Arthur will kill will Alfred! __HetaliaHour__, ah, hello new reviewer! So glad you like it! Thank you for the lovely compliments! __kokichi__, hehehe, I don't know, is it~? __Singing Artist__, so glad you like it! People always threaten to pinch my cheeks, so I understand Alfred's torment. *sigh* Enough of my rambles! On with the story!_

* * *

_Sleep Spent_

_(Death Cab for Cutie)_

_[I can't expel the truth. It's much more than I thought I could do. And with time my worth will stain. And split your heart from my name. So drive away your mouth from my ears, and waste a day so I can think clearly.]_

Arthur walked into the pub across the street, eager to toss some ale into his throat.

Yes, across the street. He and Michelle owned an office _across the street _from a pub. Ah, London. At least if his patient's received bad news, they could go and forget their troubles across the street.

That's no different from what Arthur was trying to do. He had had a stressful day, as always. But today…it bothered him more than usual. Much more than usual.

He should be happy. He should be goddamn _ecstatic_. He had committed a magnificent murder. He had done it, and hadn't gotten caught. It was the impossible, and he had obtained it.

So why the fuck wasn't he happy?

Sighing, he entered the establishment. It was rowdy inside, all the men trying to flirt with the bar maid behind the counter. She only manned the counter when her husband, the owner of the pub, was away. If her husband knew the kind of filth that was spat at her, he might not let her man the counter herself.

There was a buzz coming from the corner as Arthur sat at the bar. The men were all chatting about something very adamantly.

"Oi, doc!" Oliver Baker, one of Arthur's patients, called. He was waving a newspaper over his head.

"What is it?" Arthur asked after he ordered some ale.

"Read this!" Baker said, placing the paper under the golden blonde's nose. Front page, bold and centered, was an article that made Arthur's blood tingle with anticipation.

**Horribly Brutal Murder**

The article went on to discuss the body of a middle aged woman found dead under a streetlamp… And her description fit the woman he had killed.

How…_perfect_.

He scanned the page, and to his delight, no one seemed to know who commit the act. As a matter of fact, they seemed to believe the killer might have been left-handed, since the cuts trailed more on the left side than the right.

Just as planned.

He gave the paper back to Baker, and to his disdain, the men seemed to come surround him.

"What do you think?" Baker asked jovially. "You think we got ourselves a murderer here? Or do you think this will be the last?"

"Who knows?" a bearded man Arthur had never seen before answered. "These things take time to unfold. We just have to wait, and tell our women to be careful."

The door opened, and a familiar sandy blonde walked in. Arthur choked on his ale as he was met with the stare of Alfred F. Jones for the second time that day.

"Hey, doc!" he said happily, going to the unwilling Brit. All the men stared at the two of them, some drinking more to fill the silence that followed.

"'Ello, 'ello. An' who is this then?" Franklin, another patient with a _very _strong accent said.

"This is Alfred Jones, a traveling artist," Arthur sighed, hoping an argument didn't take place. Americans weren't exactly well-liked in London.

"Traveling?" the bearded man asked. "Traveling from where?"

_Please don't say America. Please don't say America. Please don't say America…_

"America!"

_Fuck my life._

"America? The ungrateful gits across the sea?" Baker asked, making his two companions laugh. Arthur merely narrowed his eyes at them.

"Gits? No. I'm from the land where we believe in freedom enough to risk everything. Your move, drunkey," Alfred shot back, leaning his elbow on the bar.

"Drunkey? Tha's not even a word!" Franklin said.

"It doesn't have to be if my point got across."

Arthur laughed, choking his ale back into his glass. The other men stared at him.

"Doctor Kirkland just…laughed. He _laughed!_" Baker grinned, slapping Alfred on the back. "If Mr. America can get the fuddy-duddy to laugh, I'm all for him staying!"

The bearded man scowled, and Franklin nodded. Baker slapped Alfred with the paper.

"Here, read this, Liberty Man."

Alfred's blue eyes traveled down the page, his brows furrowing as he went.

"This happened last night? Damn. I'm glad I wasn't out."

"Ah, you wouldn't be targeted. This is one of those sexual types going for the ladies," Baker said.

"Sexual? Does it say that?" Alfred asked, going back to the paper.

Arthur hissed under his breath. He knew the general public would automatically assume it was a sexual crime, but soon enough, hopefully the papers would elaborate on the fact that no signs of rape were there.

Hopefully.

"No, it doesn' say tha," Franklin added. "But it wouldn surprise me none at all if it was a sexual thin'."

"I don't think it's sexual," Alfred said after a moment. "If there were signs of rape, the press would be all over that, right?"

Arthur stared at him, happy someone got it.

The bearded man rolled his eyes and stood up, traveling away from the bar.

"'M not listening to a bloody American," he hissed. The other two grinned reassuringly at the sandy blonde, and followed him.

"Well," Alfred said after a moment, "Are all English people this welcoming?"

"Sarcasm, eh? It'll get you far if you're trying to make friends," Arthur replied.

"Back at you," the American grinned.

They drank together in silence for a few minutes, but curiosity got the better of Arthur, who only wanted to know more about the enigma.

"So, art, huh?"

"I told you, art is on the side. I'm studying cultures before anything else."

"Culture doesn't seem to be your thing. You look too stupid for that."

"Hey!"

Arthur laughed again, feeling happier than he had in a while.

"Are you always so defensive?" he asked the riled American.

"I'm not defensive! It bothers me you all think I'm stupid because I'm from America!"

"…Which is why it's defensive," Arthur chuckled.

Alfred glared at him, and then went back to his ale.

"I've never had ale before," he said. "This is actually the first time I've drank in public. In America, it's not exactly welcomed to drink if you're not older."

"How odd. I don't usually drink in public either. I've just been stressed lately," the Brit said, not sure why he was talking so much about himself.

"Stressed? So you're not always so uptight?"

"Oh, haha."

Arthur was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol, so he knew his American companion had to be too. It wasn't a good idea to get drunk with someone he felt so…weird around.

"So, you think this killer isn't sexual?" he asked the younger male, immediately cursing himself for saying such a stupid thing.

"Nah. 'S not like you British wouldn't…report that…" Alfred slurred.

Ah, so the American _was_ getting tipsy.

"I admire killers," the sandy blonde added, making Arthur almost drop his glass.

"Admire?"

"Yeah… They…do what they want… They don't like someone? BAM!" he said loudly, making a chopping motion with his hand, "Dead!"

Arthur leaned over, inadvertently leaning on the younger male so their shoulders were touching.

"I…admire…people who admire killers…" he whispered into the man's ear, making Alfred shiver.

"Mmm…that's…good…" the American purred.

Their eyes met briefly, and they were about to lean in and create a _very_ bad predicament, before a woman's voice interrupted them.

"Would you gentlemen like anything else?" the barmaid asked happily as the men down the bar stared at her behind like it was edible.

"No, we're fine," Arthur said, moving away from Alfred, who leaned forward on the bar instead.

"Is he alright?" the woman asked.

"He's fine. Could we get some crackers so he can sober up?"

"Yes! We can't have such a little cutie wandering around drunk while a killer is on the loose!" she said, moving down the bar.

Arthur placed a hand on Alfred's back and rubbed soothing motions.

"Are you fine?"

"Sleepy…"

"We'll sober you up. Where are you staying?"

"I don't…remember…"

Arthur sighed, letting his hand rub harder so he could feel the contours on Alfred's spine.

"Feels good…" Alfred purred quietly.

The doctor watched him thoughtfully.

"Tell me, Al," he said, "Do you think this killer will be punished by God?"

"God…?"

"Aren't bad men punished by God? Is there a God?"

Alfred laughed, hiccupping slightly.

"Who cares?" he slurred, balancing on his elbows to meet Arthur's gaze. The Englishman's eyes softened as he brushed some hair away from the American's forehead.

"I couldn't have said it better myself."

_[And what's left to wait for here, as my hands sleep, spent this last year. Choking the bottles neck that pulled you from my bed. So drive away your mouth from my ears, and waste a day so I can think clearly. Drive away your mouth from my ears, and waste a day so I can think clearly.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Yay, update! _

_ America: I was in this chapter lots!_

_ England: Why are you both so loud…?_

_ America: He went out drinking last night. You know he can't hold his alcohol._

_ England: Shut the hell up! I can drink way more than…both of…you…_

_ Sachi: Ah… Poor England…never learns he shouldn't drink. So, review for love! Glad to have you all with me!_

_ America: Iggy passed out…_

_ Sachi: …Let's draw on him! :D_


	6. Chapter 6

_Time for an update! *tosses confetti* How excited are you?! Okay, so probably not as excited as me, but let's pretend you are so I can feel pretty. Anyway, wow, awesome feedback! You guys are a twisted as me~. Telling me I'm adding fluff but you still love the darkness. Hehehe, I knew you'd like it! I am adding very MINOR fluff. This is a dark story, and it's going to stay dark. Yes, even the romance is going to be dark. And if you're like, "Wait, Sachi, how can you make romance dark?" You just wait. I'll get us there. In the meantime, let's get on to your well-deserved love! __HetaliaHour__, awww, so glad you liked it! That's awesome! __Rebel Lenses__, agreed! I love their dynamic in this story. __Singing Artist__, I hope VERY happy! I did apply some lipstick to him, but he was more upset about the crude drawing Al put on his forehead. Ehehehe… __Ember Hinote__, Americans are hated throughout the world. Sad, but true. It's kind of just our reputation though. I don't think the entire world hates us, but you're bound to find some haters in every country. *sigh* Oh well. We know we're awesome, and that's all that matters! __kokichi__, curiosity is welcomed here! I love curiosity. But, I usually don't answer such questions. Feel free to ask though! __Quiet. Crash__, I am not mean to Iggy! He's mean, and we just retaliate. Anyway, it's not like drawing on someone's face will kill them…unless you draw with a knife… So glad you like it! __luckycat222__, sarcasm is my every day. Muahahaha. __Shite Anonym__, the barmaid can't help it! I fixed it… I was typing late night and…sorrrryyyyyyyy. __Guest__, best comment EVER. Yes, he did. __NinetailsKyuu9__, Arthur is just a little tweaked. We will love him regardless! __Fynniona__, I love Alfred toooo! He's just so fun to write! __Nico Nissan__, so glad you like it! The darkness is major, but there will still be fluff. Yay for reviews and love! Let's get on with the storyyyyyy~!_

* * *

_Stinkfist_

_(Tool)_

_[Something has to change. Undeniable dilemma. Boredom's not a burden anyone should bear. Constant overstimulation numbs me, but I would not want you any other way. It's not enough. I need more. Nothing seems to satisfy. (I said) I don't want it, I just need it. To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive.]_

_Buzz._

_ Buzz._

_ BUZZ._

That had been the constant noise over the entire city. The little people buzzing over the killing of Polly Nichols. There were mentions of her and her ne'er-do-well lifestyle. How she was too nice to have enemies. How she was too good to meet with her fate.

When Arthur heard these things, it was all he could do to keep a straight face. Based on her actions, how _quickly _she wanted to drop to her knees and give him oral, he knew she was no innocent.

She had most likely sold her body many times before, and if he had not cleansed her, she would have done it many times again.

He was her savior. Of course, he didn't believe in such things, but if he did, he would consider himself her god.

But, as said, he didn't believe in such things.

He was not killing to save people. He was not killing to be a martyr of any kind. He was not generous. Arthur Kirkland was selfish. Selfish in every way. He killed…because he wanted to.

He killed because it felt good.

But, most importantly, he killed to make himself feel _alive_. He had never felt so needed, so important. He had no other option but to continue. He needed that feeling again.

Everything was the same in the city, yet different. It had been a few days since the killing, which was long enough for everyone to pretend it never happened. There was still a chill in the air keeping everyone on edge.

Everyone except Arthur, and for some reason, Alfred.

Ever since their encounter at the pub, which Alfred said he couldn't remember, the two had spent the majority of their time together. Much to Michelle's delight, the American had taken to coming in their office during the day to observe their work.

She offered to teach him to do paperwork, and the oblivious male agreed until Arthur intervened and told her to do her work herself.

Today, they were finished with patients, and Alfred had not shown himself all day. Arthur found himself missing the presence of the younger male, but he chalked it up to not having anyone to make fun of.

The door opened as Arthur finished the last bit of his work, and he looked up to see the American holding a very large piece of cloth, which seemed to be covering something up. Arthur raised his eyebrows.

"What is that mess in your arms?" he asked the sandy blonde.

"It's…my project. Extra-curricular," Alfred replied, setting it against the wall and stretching his arms above his head. The Brit's mint eyes traveled over the sliver of skin on the man's naval visible as he stretched, but then they wandered to the covered mass.

"Let me see it," he commanded.

"What? Why?"

"Well, you're in _my_ office, invading _my_ space, so I'd say you owe it to me, wouldn't you?"

Alfred fidgeted, looking at his shoes before he obliged. He slowly took the cover off, revealing a large painting.

Arthur rose from his chair, moving toward the picture. It was…marvelous…wonderful…

"Al…"

"I know it's not very good. I was outside today coming to see you, and the sun was shining so bright outside the inn I'm staying at, and it made every building just…come alive… London is beautiful, isn't it?" Alfred chattered, babbling on to fill the silence.

"It's the most…amazing thing I've ever seen," Arthur said, moving his hands over the brush strokes. Alfred blushed a brilliant crimson, but didn't comment.

Michelle chose this moment to enter the room again.

"Oh, Alfred! We thought you weren't coming today!" she smiled brightly. Arthur glared at her, and covered the picture up before she could gush about it.

"Actually, Chelles, we're going to finish up here. Why don't you go on home?" he asked.

"No, Doctor Kirkland, I'll stay," she argued. Right, so she picked _today_ to stay to finish her work? She was normally begging to leave.

Instead of a response, he opened the door, motioning for her to get out. Glaring, she gathered her things, blowing Alfred a kiss before she left.

"She's…nice," the American commented after the door was closed. Arthur stared at him.

"That's one way to put it."

"What do you need me to do?" Alfred asked. "You said we were finishing up here."

"If you're so amazing at painting, why not pursue a career in art?" the doctor asked.

"…Do you wanna go get a mug of ale again?" the younger male asked, changing the subject.

"We call them pints here, and no, I don't. Answer the question, Al."

"My parents don't want me to be an artist."

"Why?"

"Because they just don't."

"There's no reason?"

"No."

"I find that hard to believe."

"Look, it's not important, alright? It doesn't matter! I just can't be an artist! Saying I was studying culture is the only way they would allow me to study abroad! So let's just drop it!" Alfred hissed.

"You have potential, Al. No one should try to take that from you."

"Why do you care anyway? It's not like it concerns you."

Arthur shrugged, and pointed to the painting.

"Aren't people supposed to share their gifts with the world?"

Alfred looked at the doctor, and then at the painting. Leaning down, he picked it up, holding it out towards the older man.

"Here, take it," he said, blushing furiously.

"Take it?"

"Yeah… If you like it, take it. I…want you to have it. If I keep it, I'll just have to hide it. So take it."

Arthur admired it up close for a moment, and then moved behind his desk. Alfred watched him curiously as he flitted about, and after a minute or so, the picture was proudly hanging behind the doctor's desk.

"Y-You're hanging it up? Where everyone can see it?"

"Of course. I like it."

Alfred fidgeted again, playing with his own hands, and then looked back up to see the amused smirk of the Brit.

"So you're going straight home tonight? No pub?" he asked the older man.

"No. As much as I hate it, I need to finish these few charts."

An awkward silence enveloped them, broken by Alfred a short while later.

"I'll…come back tomorrow…okay?"

"Of course."

Arthur watched him leave, shaking his head with a smile on his face.

No, the truth was, he couldn't go out and do anything because his nerves were shot again. The pressure was amazingly heavy. He had to relieve himself.

He collected his papers, looking toward the desk, where the painting of the city shone behind it. So that was how Alfred saw the world? Bright, cheery, welcoming?

That was part of the young man's charm. He didn't know about the cruelness of the world yet. Arthur could look at the same scene, and only see things as they really were. Bleak, downtrodden, and disgusting.

How he wished he could see things the same as Alfred. He wished he could find another reason to live, aside from his work.

Things didn't work out that way, however, and he found himself putting a scalpel in his pocket as he made his way out of the office.

Maybe it was a good thing he didn't see the same world Alfred saw. Maybe the American just needed time to see the world for what it really was.

Whatever. Arthur had no time to think of such things.

He had a new victim to find, and a certain git's infectious smile to get out of his head.

_[Something kinda sad about the way that things have come to be. Desensitized to everything. What become of subtlety? How can this mean anything to me if I really don't feel anything at all? I'll keep digging 'til I feel something. Elbow deep inside the borderline. Show me that you love me and that we belong together. Shoulder deep within the borderline. Relax. Turn around and take my hand.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Kind of short this time, sorry. I have to stretch it out to make sure the awesome chapters to come can be longer. _

_ America: He's killing again? D:_

_ England: *sighs*_

_ Sachi: Yes, Al. He's killing again._

_ America: What a scary story!_

_ England: Hopefully this next update will come faster._

_ Sachi: Yeeeaaaaahhhh… I'll try… Reviews make me try harder! I love you all! _


	7. Chapter 7

_Early updaaaaaaaaaaate! You might notice this story is getting updated more often than not… That's because I'm super excited about the scenes coming up, and I'm really impatient to get to them! Stretching this out is so haaaaaaaard. But I will figure it out somehow. Now, your reviews seriously crack me up. "Yay, he's killing again!" was the main consensus for the previous chapter. Haha, we feel the same! Now, let's get on to the love! __HetaliaHour__, I think he's cute too. Haha, I really love writing Arthur though. I don't know, he's just so...proper and twisted. It's great. __Quiet. Crash__, nooooou! It's all our faults! Some blame must go to Iggy! DX Al's parents are gits! __Lightnescoinmyheartforever__, haha, I love it too! I wasn't quite sure how you all would react, but you've been great. __luckycat222__, Al's gonna be a great artist! __Singing Artist__, he noticed his lips about the time everyone started pointing at him… It wasn't pretty. I will try to stay awesome~! You do the same!__ Fynniona__, oooh, what do you think will happen if Al catches Arthur killing? I'd love to hear the thoughts! Now, my dears, it's time for an update! On with the story!_

* * *

_Little Girls_

_(Say Anything)_

_[I kill, kill, kill little girls. I kill, kill, kill little girls. It's such a thrill, thrill, thrill to the world, when I kill, kill, kill little girls. Don't you come near me. Don't you come close to me. Why don't you fear me? Don't dance so close to me. Don't you come near me. Don't you come close to me, because they won't let me stop now.]_

Arthur was exhausted again. Thoroughly drained. He couldn't remember the last time he had gotten a decent night's sleep.

Michelle was behind her normal post, filling out the patient charts as usual. She was his nurse, but she didn't do much medical work. Most of the patients preferred men to be their practitioner. Women were more for…decoration.

And indeed, she was pretty. Many men enjoyed coming in to see her large brown eyes and dark pigtails highlighted with her bright bows. Arthur was accustomed to hearing them catcall to her, and even saw them make little swipes at her.

What bothered him?

She _liked_ it.

She liked the attention, she liked the feelings, and she liked their lust. She liked it.

And that was why, no matter how hard she might try, he would never like her. Never. She was no better than the women on the streets, in his opinion. If he ever found out she was selling her body, he would kill her without a moment's hesitation.

Now comes the question: _Why was he only killing prostitutes?_

Ah, that is a trivial matter. It wasn't anything like saving them from themselves, or even the slightest bit of moral obligation.

He thought they were filthy. They reminded him of everything he hated about the opposite gender. Most important, most of them had no children that would miss them when they were gone.

He wasn't heartless. He didn't want children to grow without their mothers. If any of the ones he had already killed _had_ children, they would be much older now, possibly older than him.

Arthur Kirkland did his research, thank you very much.

Michelle sighed dramatically from the corner.

"When is my America coming to see me today?" she whined. Arthur glared at her.

"He's not _your_ America. Thinking like that is what caused the Revolutionary War to begin with, you twit. And he'll show. He always does."

She huffed when she heard Alfred wasn't hers, but she brightened when she heard he would be coming.

"You know," she said after a moment, "Alfred must really like you."

The doctor actually dropped his pen.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, trying to maintain composure.

"Well… He came here for a routine checkup _one_ day, and now he's here almost _every_ day. I was hoping it was to see me, but then when I asked him why, he said it was to see _you_."

Arthur's mint green eyes were wider than she had ever seen them.

"You like this kid, don't you?" she asked.

"Like?"

"I can tell you admire him for something. You don't even allow me to hover over your shoulder while you work. But Alfred hangs around your desk whenever he's here, and you let him. Are you trying to get him interested in being a doctor too?"

Of course she would think it was something simple like that.

"Why indeed?" he said vaguely, going back to his work, though his mind was wandering.

Alfred…was something…special to him.

Sure, they had only known each other for a short while, but that wasn't really of importance. When he looked into those blue eyes, he saw…enchantment. Wonder. _Hope_.

Things he himself had lost long ago.

He saw someone who needed direction, someone who was running away from something.

But what Alfred was running away from was still a mystery.

Alfred chose that moment to enter the building, looking tired but still chipper.

"Good morning!" he greeted, flushing when his eyes traveled to the painting hanging proudly behind the doctor's desk.

"Good morning, cutie!" Michelle greeted.

"Morning," Arthur said in the same bored voice he usually held, trying not to sound as pleased as he was by the American's presence.

Alfred shrugged his bag off his shoulder before traveling to Arthur's workspace.

"I really wish you'd take that painting down," he whispered while leaning close to the older man's ear. Arthur gripped his desk as shivers ran down his spine from the lips ghosting his earlobe, but he tried to ignore the sensation.

"Why would I do that?" he asked smugly. "It bothers you, so it provides me with enjoyment."

Alfred pouted deliciously, moving to stand behind the doctor instead.

"What are you working on?"

"A patient's case. Mrs. Lipscomb has very bad headaches, and she's coming in to get a checkup," Arthur replied, his nails bending backwards as he gripped the desk to help him ignore the fact that Alfred's scent was invading his nose.

"Ooh, sounds _fancy_," the sandy blonde said, imitating a British accent for the word 'fancy'. He grinned at the doctor's less than amused glance sent his way.

"Speaking of Mrs. Lipscomb," Michelle said, "She might try and flirt with you, Alfred."

"Huh? Why?"

"Her husband died of a heart attack last year, and she's very…open with her needs. I caught her groping Dr. Kirkland last time she was here."

"That was not _groping_. Her hand brushed my backside," Arthur defended.

"That was groping, trust me. It only seemed like an accident because she laughed it off, but she meant to."

Alfred was biting his cheek, looking distraught.

"Do you…think she'll do that again?" he asked.

"Who cares? It's not like I can just turn her away for being lonely," the Brit sighed.

"She's not just lonely. She's desperate," Michelle interrupted.

"You and she have that in common."

The day passed rather uneventfully. Arthur told Alfred to paint him another picture, but the American was adamantly refusing. The golden haired man kept bringing it up just to see the younger man's face puff up defensively. It was cute.

Mrs. Lipscomb walked in just in time for her appointment, looking rather well-dressed just for a checkup. She smiled warmly at Arthur, and then got a predatory look when she saw Alfred in the room. The doctor sighed, knowing if anything went even the slightest bit south, Michelle would never shut up about it.

"Oh, I heard the most _dreadful_ news this morning," Mrs. Lipscomb said dramatically. "There was another murder last night! Another woman, dead!"

"Another one?" Alfred asked, eyes shining. "By the same killer?"

"They don't know yet, young man. It seems to fit the description of the last one."

"How awful," Michelle said quietly. "Another life cut short."

_Another worthless, filthy life._

"Open your mouth, Linda," Arthur instructed, wanting to get the checkup over with.

"Oooh, how positively naughty of you, _Doctor~_" Mrs. Lipscomb said

Alfred flopped loudly in the chair behind Arthur's desk.

"How have those headaches been lately?"

"Dreadful. I had one last night that was so bad, I had to blow all my candles out. It hurt to even look at them."

"Yes, that happens sometimes with the really intense ones," Arthur said. "Say 'ah'."

He examined her as fast as he could, allowing himself to think instead about the heinous acts he committed just a few hours prior.

* * *

This one was short too, and rather stout. She was older. She had to be close to fifty. Her footsteps echoed on the cobblestone road, and there was little to no illumination.

Just how Arthur liked it.

He needed to do this one faster than the last. He risked being caught by enjoying it too much. But it was hard. It was so damn hard.

He moved quickly behind her, careful not to cause any sudden movements. He didn't want her frightened. Hell, he didn't even want her to know he was there.

Just as she started to turn, he brought his fast down hard on the back of her neck. Her knees crumpled, and she fell face first into the street. He grabbed her by her feet, having to hold on to her filthy laced boots.

He dragged her into the nearest alley, and got to work. This time…it wasn't as precise.

He was shocked when her mouth opened, and he heard the sharp intake of air, as if she were preparing to… He jammed a handkerchief in her mouth, punching her face until her eyes closed from disorientation.

He slit her throat instantly, jabbing the scalpel inside more than he meant to. He cut so deeply, blood shot out as soon as the incision began. He had to dodge the stream, and turn her head more so it wasn't directed at him.

He moved his scalpel down, making little nicks whenever he felt the need. He reached the stomach, and his body went numb.

He had to…but he couldn't…he couldn't…

_"Arthur, get your bloody shirts of me floor! I don't keep house to have your ungrateful arse litter everywhere!"_

Cursing the shrill voice in his head, he slammed the scalpel into her stomach, creating a sickening squishing sound. He breathed heavily, his body beginning to grow hot from desire of a completely different kind.

Arthur's hand moved, the scalpel moving with it. Her stomach was opened all the way, revealing the insides, which he wanted to see more of.

With his hand trembling from unfiltered excitement, he reached inside her stomach, feeling the warmth of her intestines. To his dismay, the shrill voice in his head grew louder.

Shut up…

Shut up…

SHUT UP…

With a muffled roar, he tore out the intestines, tossing them on her shoulder. He was furious. _Furious_.

Her blood leaked around them, and he found it less enjoyable than the first two times. Something was wrong… Something was bothering him…but what?

Sighing, he decided to end it there. He dragged her back into the street, careful not to let any possible passersby see. He decided to humiliate her and her disgusting profession.

He needed to pay her back for ruining this for him, whether or not it was really her fault.

Arthur spread her legs, tucking her feet under as best he could. He pushed her dress up, displaying her privates for all to see.

Then, as if that wasn't enough, he took her rings. The rings on her middle finger. She had three of them there, just begging to be taken.

Why should he not commemorate this kill? Why shouldn't he have a token to remember it by?

A…trophy, if you will…

He took the rings, and left her there, hoping whoever found her would enjoy the view.

* * *

By the time Linda Lipscomb left, Arthur too had a headache.

Alfred stood up to let him sit in his chair behind his desk, and took a long look at his face.

"I'm guessing you don't like her?" he questioned.

"Hah, I hate her," the doctor spat. "I hate most of my patients…" he gripped his hair, tugging slightly.

Alfred moved behind him, and began to rub his shoulders.

"Al… What are you doing?" Arthur asked. He enjoyed the massage, but didn't want to do anything to cause awkwardness between them.

"I'm…pretty good with my hands…"

"…Good to know…"

Arthur leaned forward, giving the American more access. Alfred's hands applied more pressure, and he moved forward as well.

"You're so stressed…" he said quietly. "There's so much…tension here…"

"Mmm…get it out…"

Alfred's fingers began to dig into the doctor's skin, making the older man gasp and clench his desk once more.

"Al…"

"You…made me happy…" Alfred whispered, his body coming to rest on Arthur's loosely while his hands continued their ministrations. "I'm glad…you don't like…brainless bimbos, even if they're pretty," he continued, his lips once again at the Brit's ear.

Arthur turned to stare into dark blue eyes, the black of the younger man's pupils taking up most them. His mouth suddenly dry, the Brit licked his lips.

"I prefer…substance…but…I do enjoy beauty…" he said, reaching up to stroke the American's face.

Alfred smiled at him, coming forward to stand beside him instead of behind.

"We have that in common," he purred. "I need to be going now, Doc. I have a busy day tomorrow."

"W-Wait…" Arthur said frantically, about to stand before he realized a certain…predicament in his pants needed to hidden behind the safety of his desk.

The sandy blonde grinned again, walking toward the door and grabbing his bag. He looked at the doctor over his shoulder, and gave him a playful wink.

"Bye Michelle!" he called to the woman in the other room.

"Bye! See you tomorrow!" she chirped back.

As the younger man left, Arthur could only watch him go, wondering when exactly blue became his favorite color.

_[Lost 12 hours of my day, but it's okay, just black it out. Evil things in my pants forever fearing contact. Whoa, yeah. Whoa! Now I know why I wanna be left alone. Lost 12 hours of my day, but it's okay, just black it out. I'm a psycho! Whoa! I'm a psycho! Whoa! Don't you come near me. (I'm a psycho. Whoa!) Don't come close to me. (I'm a psycho. Whoa! ) Why don't you fear me? (I'm a psycho. Whoa!) Don't dance so close to me. (I'm a psycho. Whoa!) Because they won't let me stop now. Because I won't stop, can't stop now. Because they won't let me stop now. No.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Long chapter! Yay~!_

_ America: *shoots firework* Happy New Year!_

_ England: *waves flag*_

_ Sachi: Yes, let's all make 2013 as great as we can! It will be a great year for stories! So…let's start it off with great reviews? *waggles eyebrows*_

_ England: Why can't I do that with my eyebrows?_

_ America: Because it's heavy lifting in your case, Iggy~._


	8. Chapter 8

_UGHHHHHHHHHHHDUBSWJDIDOSNHAO LSSHAIGWISDBSKS. Yes, that is totally a word. You know the funny part? My laptop isn't even telling me it's __**not**__ a word. It's simply suggesting I don't write it in all caps. Ah, technology. In case you're wondering why I was making such a noise, it's because my parents are in my house, invading my space, and telling me all I need to do to better my life. BLAHHH. I love them, really, I do. But stillllllll! They've been hogging my laptop, so…I'm blaming that for the lack of updates. Now, yayyyy, let's get on to the love! __HetaliaHour__, the…best you've read? The BEST you've read?! *tackles!* I love yooooooouuuuu! __Quiet. Crash__, *pets* Shhh… We all argue equally, so we're all to blame. Yes, I'm all about plot twists! WHAT A TWEEST! __BrokenHeartedWarrior__, so glad you love it! Happy New Years to you too, my dear! __Singing Artist__, oooh, I love conversational reviews! Tell them not to whack you with a newspaper! I need your mind intact so you can keep leaving me such lovely reviews~! __Rai Rai Blue__, I…introduce you to a new fandom, a new story, and a new way of life…and you were going to call me a bad name? But…but… *sobs* WHYYYYY?! ALL I DID WAS LOVE YOU! Excuse me while I go to that corner over there and just…die in a fetal position… __Fynniona__, ahh, whose voice was it indeed? I love your ideas! I can't answer them, of course… But I might be bribed with more of your lovely fanart! __Nico Nissan__, I can't wait for you to find out the mystery either! :D __yolo__, glad you love it! I shall update! __Kira-Lime Orijima__, ahh, another faithful! Aww, yay, I made your day! (I totally just rhymed.) Now, so glad to have you here with me! __kokichi__, whooo for intimacy! *tosses confetti* I'm so glad to have you all with meeeeeeee! Oh, look…plot development._

* * *

_I'm Making Eyes at You_

_(Black Kids)_

_[So you want my affection? We both know you'll only throw it away, but if you must have a go, fine, ok! If you must have a go, then go away! I'm making eyes at you. I've been making these eyes now, making these eyes since '82. I've making them green and gray and brown and delta blue. I'm reciting the mantra, but I can't tell you, because you're missing me. That's all you'll ever be.]_

Arthur stood in the butcher's shop, trying not to smile as he overheard a conversation about the latest murder.

It had been a few days, but it was still a topic of hit discussion, especially since the newspaper had deemed both murders committed by the same killer, even if the police weren't saying so.

To Arthur's delight, most people seemed genuinely frightened of the slayings, and many men were keeping their wives inside.

Good.

They needed to fear him. They needed to fear the possibility their wives could be next. They needed to keep their whores inside.

It was exactly what he wanted, and yet…

He was nowhere near done.

Sighing again, because the meats weren't what he wanted, he let his eyes wander.

And that's when he saw Alfred Jones talking to a rather large man across the street, looking very distraught.

Forgetting he was in public, forgetting he was tired, forgetting _everything_, he rushed outside, toward the American.

Alfred looked up, his eyes growing wide as he saw the doctor approach. The large man turned too, curious to see what the blonde was staring at.

"Is there a problem here?" Arthur asked, making it a point to stand as close to the younger man as he could.

"No problem, mate. Jus' havin' a little chat with me tenant 'ere," the man replied.

"Ah, would you mind rescheduling it? I need for him to come with me," the doctor said calmly, tugging Alfred along.

The man stood there, not bothering to follow, and Alfred was following willingly. Arthur pulled him until they were safely away from the street, and looked him in the eyes.

Those goddamn bright blue eyes.

"What was that about? Friend of yours?" he asked.

"That was my innkeeper," Alfred said quietly.

"That overgrown lummox was your _innkeeper?_ Bloody hell, I knew I hated this part of the city…"

The younger man nodded, staring at his feet for a moment before he cautiously looked back up at the doctor, almost like a child checking to see if he were about to be scolded. Arthur couldn't help but laugh.

"What was that about anyhow?"

"Oh, um… I haven't paid him for next week yet…" the American explained.

"Next week? He's already on you about next week? Seems a bit harsh."

"It's because I'm American."

Arthur looked at him sympathetically, not remembering the last time he felt such a thing.

"Al…"

"I knew I was going to deal with it, so it's no big deal. I was hoping to avoid the money issue thing, but things happen, I guess."

"I thought…your parents were paying for everything?"

"They are…but I don't have next week's yet…and I can't get it now…and-"

Arthur shushed him by holding up his hand.

"I'm guessing you don't have anything planned for today… Why not tag along with me?"

Alfred gave him a look similar to one he might wear if he were given the world.

"Really? You…_want_ me to?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

Smiling widely, the younger man perked up, tugging on Arthur's coat sleeve.

"Where are we going? What are we doing? Are you going to see friends? Am I going to meet them? Why aren't you working today anyway? Is Michelle near here too?"

"We're shopping, I don't have friends, the office is closed today, and I would rather eat dirt than see Chelles on the one day I don't have to, now come on," the Brit said, answering every question with one breath.

Together, they got all of the shopping done, but it probably took longer than it needed to. At every new place, Alfred would roam all around the store, pointing at everything, and asking what it was.

To his surprise, Arthur never got tired of him, or answering his questions. He rather enjoyed someone thinking so highly of him.

As they made their way out of the last store, Arthur directed them down the street.

"Where to now?" Alfred asked brightly.

"My home. I need to put all this stuff away, don't I?"

"I…get to see your home?"

"No, I expect you to blindfold yourself," the doctor said, rolling his eyes at the idiotic statement. Alfred's smile never faltered however. It actually seemed to get a little brighter.

"I thought doctors always had to work," the American said after a few minutes of silence.

"If it were the winter months, I would always have work. Since it's still warm outside, people don't seem to get sick as often. Chelles and I try to close the office at least once a week, but if we had a lot of patients, we would work every day."

This answer seemed to satisfy the younger male, because he grew silent…for a few seconds.

"Is it hard being a doctor?"

"…No. I drew a pretty picture, had it framed, and became a doctor."

"You're being rather sarcastic today."

"You're asking a lot of idiotic questions today."

"I'm curious!"

Arthur shook his head, grinning in spite of himself.

"Yes, it was difficult. It wasn't as hard for me as it was for some, however. I was always good at memorization, and when it comes down to it, that's one essential tool every practitioner needs."

"Wow…you must be really smart then…"

"I've been around long enough to learn a few things."

"…How old are you?"

"Twenty-five."

"Oh…"

"You?"

"Twenty."

"You'll learn what you need to someday. You just have to stick to your talents," Arthur offered.

"Yeah, I guess…"

They got to Arthur's house, a large space without any decoration. Most rooms were bare, but Alfred never commented on it. He simply watched as the older man rummaged through the groceries, and put them in their respectable places.

"So, why aren't your parents sending you more money?" Arthur asked suddenly.

"Huh? They are! Just not…yet…"

"No, they're not. I'm not stupid, Al. You wouldn't be so scared if they were sending you more anytime soon."

Alfred's blue eyes grew impossibly wide, and he folded his arms in a defensive pose.

"Come on, Al. Tell me what's wrong," the doctor coaxed, wondering why he actually cared to know.

"My dad hates me. He…hates me… He sent me a letter making really outrageous demands, and I told him no, and now he cut me off…"

"What sort of demands?"

"That I pay him interest on everything he's paying for me, and start sending him money _now._ How am I supposed to do that? And now I've got no money, no way to travel, no anything…"

Arthur watched him flop in the chair by the table, before he went to fetch them each a glass to pour drinks into.

"I can't imagine why your father would be so harsh… Do you have any siblings?"

"I have a younger brother, but he's the favorite. Mattie will probably…inherit everything."

"So your family is wealthy?"

"Very. My dad owns a railroad company. I mean, I'm not upset that Mattie's going to get everything. I'm just…depressed that even if I did make something of myself, my dad wouldn't care, you know?"

Oh, how Arthur knew.

"I do. I'm sorry you have to go through that. I know how hard the pressure is to always do something more."

Alfred ran his hands through his hair.

"And that bastard wants me to send him money. He has enough of it! This is just a ploy to stop me from coming home!"

"I thought the eldest son received rights to a family company?" Arthur asked.

"Not in this case. Mattie's smarter than me, always has been. We're only a year apart, so it really doesn't matter one way or the other. I can't…compete with my brother for the company. I don't want it anyway."

The doctor studied him as he took a swig from his drink.

"What exactly is it you want?"

"Freedom."

"Seems to be a common thing in your country."

"Yeah…"

Arthur shot his drink back quickly, and leaned forward on the table.

"I'll tell you what you want to do. Be an artist."

Alfred shook his head.

"I can't do that… I'm not good enough to get paid for my art…"

"Yes you are. I'll be your first customer."

"…Come again?"

The doctor rolled his eyes at the man's stupidity.

"Look, I'm going to be honest with you. I like how you view things, and I like how you portray them. Most people in this world know as much about anatomy as I know about space, so they need all the help they can get understanding things. I want you to start painting me anatomically correct pictures to show patients when I need to."

Alfred looked as if he were just told he was on fire.

"Are…you being serious right now?"

"Dead serious. It'll help us both out. I won't have to explain to someone for an hour where their kidneys are, and you can have some money to pay your innkeeper until you find what it is you'd like to do. Sound good?"

"You're not…just doing this to help me, are you?"

"No. I never help others just to help them. I want you to reach your potential, and I think this will be good for you. Besides," Arthur grinned, ruffling the younger male's hair affectionately, "I like how flustered you get when your art is complimented. Imagine how red you'll stay when it's praised every day."

"Hey! I don't turn _red!_ It only bothers me when you display it so much!" Alfred yelped incredulously.

"Is it a deal or not?"

"…Deal… But I don't know much about anatomy either."

Arthur gave him a smug grin.

"I plan on teaching you all you need to know~."

_[Please don't, please don't speak; you'll kill the mystique. Oh baby, let's not, let's not dance; we'll ruin chances. Oh, in between the drinks, I can't help but to think that even as we speak; we kill the mystique.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Oooh, naughty Arthur~._

_ America: *blushes*_

_ England: *smug face*_

_ Sachi: We're getting close to the fun! Yes, even more fun than murder. Special thanks to incidentalmusic for helping me with this chapter! I'm thoroughly exhausted, since it's almost 4am here, so I'm getting ready to pass out. _

_ America: Me toooooo!_

_ England: Review for love and a quicker update for the next chapter. _

_ America: *glomps* Iggy! It's bedtime!_


	9. Chapter 9

_Whoo! Time for another update! Fast, right? I type more when I'm interested in things 100%! This story is just too addicting to write! Haha, I got a Hetalia shirt this week! I saw it in a store, and I literally jumped up and down with excitement, bought that bitch, and plan to be buried in it. Yay, me! Oh, but you don't care about that! So, update! But first we have to get out all your love! __darkestlight96__, ah, it's alright as long as you're back now! Missed you! __Ember Hinote__, if I told you, it wouldn't be as fun! __Fynniona__, aw, thank you! I understand being busy…*sigh* I just love fanart! __Quiet. Crash__, blah! I'm super innocent! __luckycat222__, haha, the rhymes are lyrics! I highly suggest reading the chapters with the soundtrack! It makes it better! __Singing Artist__, murder is a good topic anywhere! Aww, so glad you like the updates! You stay strong too! __Snowspider__, thank you so much! I love writing them so much, and I'm glad you like their dynamic! __Rai Rai Blue__, Toki is a very spoiled kitty, and only I can love him! Time Traveler will be updated when incidentalmusic and I hash it out… *sigh* We always get distracted! __BrokenHeartedWarrior__, oooh, France laugh! __HetaliaHour__, so sweet! I think you'll like how I'll make it pan out! Now, my lovelies, on with the story!_

* * *

_Dig_

_(Incubus)_

_[We all have a weakness, but some of ours are easy to identify. Look me in the eye, and ask for forgiveness; we'll make a pact to never speak that word again. Yes, you are my friend. We all have something that digs at us. At least we dig each other. So when weakness turns my ego up, I know you'll count on the me from yesterday!]_

Having Alfred around even more was both good and bad.

Arthur craved his presence by this point. He loved the way Alfred would hang on to his every word. He loved how the American's eyes would light up when he was praised, complimented. He loved how the younger man would get so riled up when he was teased.

He wasn't used to wanting to be around someone. He didn't want to let the feeling verge on obsession, but it seemed to be heading that way. Being around Alfred was an addiction, in its own way.

And Arthur Kirkland was becoming a fast junkie.

But, he was a man of conviction, even if he was a murderer on the side. He wasn't about to act on his desires and scare Alfred away. He would wait, calmly and coolly, until the man came to him.

Like good little prey.

In the meantime, he would stalk the undesirables until they were gone. Gone, gone, gone!

It had been a long while since the last murder, but that was only because he had been so busy. His little anatomy lessons with Alfred took up more time than he would have liked.

Turns out the American was a perfectionist when it came to art. Surprise. The damn git didn't seem to care about anything as much as he cared about art.

Arthur was explaining the structure of a heart, trying to remember the more vivid details. It had been a while since Medical school, and he wasn't one-hundred percent on the little things.

Alfred seemed to not care, and he would ask anyway. Over and over.

And _over_.

It was this way with every new portrait the American painted for him, and soon enough, the office was full of charts more accurate than many medical books had in them. Alfred was getting paid handsomely, and his work was catching more and more patient's eyes.

And so was Alfred, much to Arthur's dismay.

The initial dislike of the sandy blonde for being an American was fading, and it was replaced with pure fascination. The patient's would question him about life overseas, how he became such a good artist, etc.

The women seemed to like talking to him the most, because he was so adorable and enthusiastic. Alfred would make gestures when he talked, often excitedly. He was getting rather popular around the office.

Arthur…wasn't pleased about the added attention, but he did like that fact that Alfred was having a good time.

That was most important for now.

Michelle was hovering over the American, watching him paint the newest chart, which was going to be the inside of an abdomen.

"This is so amazing!" she said enthusiastically. "I wish I could paint!"

"It's not really hard," Alfred said as he painted the outline.

"Not if you have talent," Arthur said from his place, grateful it was almost time to leave.

"Is that your fancy way of telling me I have no talent, _Doctor?_" Michelle spat.

"If I wanted to tell you something, I'd tell you clearly. I don't feel I should vocalize things that are obvious."

The two glared at each other, before Alfred shattered the match.

"I hate this! I don't know what a stomach looks like! I can't do it!"

"You say that about every new picture I ask you to paint," Arthur sighed, walking over to see the struggles himself as Michelle bustled about, gathering her things.

"But this one is super hard! I really can't do it!"

"Is it okay if I leave now, Arthur?" Michelle asked as she reentered the room. The doctor waved her away, listening as she left the two of them alone.

"Look," he sighed when she was gone, "You're overthinking this too much. I told you to draw a basic oval outline, and I would describe the rest later."

"Describe it now!"

"Listen, you! Don't boss me around! I'll tell you at another time when you're not obsessing over it so much."

"I need to get this done now! Please! I'm sorry I was bossy, okay? I just feel a vibe right now, and I need to paint it now!"

"Artists," Arthur sighed, leaning over Alfred in his chair to point at the canvas.

"The inside is a long trail of lines here," he began, placing his hand over the younger man's to guide his brush. "They overlap, and the bottom is a little tip like this," he moved their hands again. "Then you have the small intestines, which are a little more…" he paused as he turned to face his supposed student.

Alfred wasn't looking at the canvas. He was looking at Arthur.

"What are you staring at?" the doctor asked.

"Nothing… What's that line there for?" Alfred asked, pointing to a stray line.

"Oh, damn, I wasn't paying attention and my hand slipped, sorry. Let's…discuss this one later, alright? I think it's about time to call it a day."

Alfred nodded, and the two walked out together.

"I never thanked you," the American said after a few moments of walking in silence.

"Thanked me for what?"

"You gave me a job. Thank you."

"I didn't hire you because I felt obligated. I told you, I like your art."

"I know, I know. Thanks anyway."

Arthur shook his head, smiling a little.

"You truly are something else, Al."

"Something else good? Something you like?"

"Trust me, you're my favorite person."

Alfred beamed at him happily.

"But I hate most people, so I'm not sure how much of a compliment that is," Arthur added.

"I'll take it as one anyway!" Alfred chirped, turning down his usual road. "See you later!"

Arthur watched him go, longing to follow, but forbidding himself to. He had more to worry about than a silly kid. At least for now.

"Doctor Kirkland!" a familiar voice sounded. The blonde turned to see Baker walking up to him.

"How are you tonight, Baker?" he greeted pleasantly.

"Alright, I guess. At least I haven't had the misfortune of meeting Jack the Ripper!" his patient laughed.

"Jack the Ripper? Who's that?" Arthur asked dimly.

"You…haven't read today's paper?"

"No, why?"

"That killer who murdered those two women sent the police a letter yesterday! He signed it 'Jack the Ripper', so that's what everyone's been calling him now. Weird, huh?"

Well, since Arthur had sent no such letter, it was very weird indeed.

"Did they print a copy of the letter too?"

"No, it didn't have that. Just the signature."

How _infuriating_. Someone was claiming his work as their own. Someone had the _audacity_ to think of this as a joke, and claim a masterpiece as their own.

His credit was being stolen.

"That's fairly scary," he said to Baker pleasantly. "I have an early day tomorrow, so I'll be going home to retire now. Stay safe."

"You too, mate."

Arthur made his way home quickly, his anger fading as he went.

Yes, he was given a false title, but if it kept suspicion off of him, it might prove useful. He didn't want to be named something he didn't call himself, but he had to look at the big picture.

As long as he wasn't caught, he could continue his work. He could continue to cleanse the streets of London.

So, Jack the Ripper he would be. At least for the time being.

And it was about time to get more practice to help Alfred's anatomy lessons.

_[If I turn into another, dig me out from under what is covering the better part of me. Sing this song. Remind me that we'll always have each other, when everything else is gone. Oh, each other. When everything else is gone.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: The debut of Jack the Ripper! Yes, for those who aren't familiar with the case, there were letters sent to the police department claiming to be from the killer. It is widely believed they weren't from the killer himself, because they were inconsistent. So, lesson for you!_

_ America: I like your new shirt!_

_ Sachi: I love it! It has all my favorite Hetalia characters on it, and America is eating a burger while squishing England!_

_ England: Seems about right. He needs to stop eating so much genetically modified cow meat._

_ America: Hey!_

_ Sachi: Review for love! Hope to see you all next chapter!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Hello to you, my loves! For those who read my DRRR! stories, sorry if you were worried. You know how it gets sometimes. Life gets overwhelming, and the only solution is to disappear. But writing always makes me feel better, so I think it'll be good for me! I'm not going to bore you with my issues, so don't ask what was wrong. Let's just move forward, and get on with this dark ass story. Now, thank you for your patience! I know it's been awhile! It must have been dreadful for those of you waiting, since I ended it so long ago! And you all want the two of them to get together… Hehehehe. Let's see what I can do. *waves wand* Oh, wait. I have to give you love first! __Quiet. Crash__, haha, what a theory! People impersonate serial killers all the time. It makes you wonder who would want the credit for such a thing, but you know…whatever… __HetaliaHour__, awww, I love you! I try to update when I can! __BrokenHeartedWarrior__, I love Jack the Ripper! Most infamous serial killer in the world, you know. Been imitated many times. __Rai Rai Blue__, thank you very much for your concern. I'm very glad you care for me. And Toki is my best friend in the universe! Sorry for the delay… __Fynniona__, I am a tease! I get told so often, but it's all good. I enjoy possessive Arthur too~! __Singing Artist__, awww, thank you so much! I try to keep it as constant as I can. __Phoxies Fair__, go to Hot Topic! That's where I got mine. I'M GLAD YOU LOVE IT! Now, I've rambled enough. Thank you all for reading, it means the world to me. On with the story!_

* * *

_The Package_

_(A Perfect Circle)_

_[Clever got me this far, then tricky got me in. Eye on what I'm after, I don't need another friend. Smile and drop the cliché, 'till you think I'm listening. I take just what I came for, then I'm out the door again. Peripheral on the package, don't care to settle in. It's time to feed the monster, I don't need another friend. Comfort is a mystery, crawling out of my own skin. Just give me what I came for, then I'm out the door again.]_

It was late.

But, honestly, what other time what he be able to do this?

Damn how tired he would be the next day. Damn how cranky, how worn, how…how…

His thoughts were scattered. They were getting worse. He was no fool. Graduating top of his class, he knew what was happening to him.

He was losing his mind. Going crazy. It's not like it was a mystery. And yet…he didn't really care.

Being mentally unstable gives a man time to think, time to plan. He finally realized it wasn't always his fault, _couldn't _always be his fault. No, others were to blame as well.

Every man held a secret, and every woman was a whore.

That's it, black and white, no gray.

He leaned against the wall of a dark building, barely able to make out what he was leaning against.

A lodging house. He uncovered his eyes, not sure when he covered them to begin with. His head hurt, the voices were loud, and to top it all off, he was just told someone was taking credit for his art.

He sighed loudly, trying to decide what to do. Then, whatever the reason, whatever her motives, a woman approached him from under the awning of the inn.

"Are you okay, dear?" she asked, her voice laced with an unknown accent.

He studied her for a moment. She was taller than the others, though still shorter than him. Her eyes were gray, and her hair was dark and curly. She looked up at him with interest, and seemed genuinely concerned to know what was bothering him.

What if she was an innocent?

Well, one way to find out.

"I'm fine. Just…rather lonely," he said, examining her features.

Then, as he expected, her profession seemed to take over.

"Ah, well… I have a room here. I'll share it with you, for a small price~," she purred, her ridiculous accent marring her words. He smiled at her pleasantly, motioning for her to lead the way.

As soon as she turned her back, he struck.

Using a handkerchief from his pocket, he wrapped it around her throat with one hand, his other hand moving to her mouth to cover her screams.

As she flailed about, he tugged her behind the building, careful to avoid the light from the windows inside.

He settled them in the street behind the lodging house, straddling her so he could watch the show.

Her face was turning blue, her eyes wide and bloodshot. She was kicking furiously at first, clawing at the ground as if it would save her. Then, her movements ceased, her eyes glazing over.

His face was the last thing she would ever see, but at least he gave her a smile for her troubles.

His scalpel went to work, more careful this time, more _precise_. As he sliced open her neck, he happened to glance down at her hand, which was clutching something.

A packet of Cachous. Pills used by smokers to sweeten their breath.

Well, at least she wasn't planning on having rancid breath during their time together. The mark of a _true_ professional, after all.

He was nearly finished with her, nearly done…

_"Arthur, I'm going out for a bit, don't wait up."_

No.

_ "For God sakes, you git, you can't even sleep by yourself? You'll never amount to anything!"_

Not true… Not true, he's a doctor…

_ "You're the reason your father left!"_

No!

_ "You're a mistake! I never wanted you!"_

NO!

Scowling furiously, be tried to drown the shrill voice. Tried, tried, tried. But to no avail. His free hand caressed her face above the slash in her neck. She actually might have been attractive, back in her day…

_"MISTAKE!"_

How dare that voice destroy his masterpiece again…how dare it?! Why was he forced to listen to this drabble always, even now, even as an adult…

How he longed for silence…

As a matter of fact, he could do her a courteous favor, in return for providing him with entertainment. Moving swiftly, he pushed the scalpel over her ear, removing it from her body. As he was turning her head to receive the other, he heard the unmistakable whinny of a horse in the distance.

Shit.

He ran as far from her as he dared, still carrying the ear in his hand as the blood trickled down his fingers.

The voice in his head grew louder and louder until it was deafening him.

_"Arthur!"_

_ "Arthur!"_

_ "ARTHUR!"_

* * *

"Yo! Arthur! You okay?"

The doctor jerked awake, finding his face stuck to a piece of parchment he had been pouring over. He turned toward the source of the voice, only to find Alfred's face close to his.

"Al? H-How long was I out for?" he asked the American, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Since I've been here. Michelle wanted to wake you, but I told her I'd help you finish up later, if you'd like."

Arthur nodded absently. It was no surprise to him he had fallen asleep at work. He hadn't gotten any sleep the night before.

Dreaming of the murders was nothing out of the ordinary for him. He had been dreaming about them ever since his first murder was committed. What was bothering him was…his mother's voice growing louder and louder in his head.

He sighed, trying to look back over the parchment.

"Do you need me to help?" Alfred asked brightly.

"…Why are you still here?"

"Oh, um… I finished the stomach painting and…I got here right about when Michelle was leaving, so I figured I'd wake you up as soon as I was done… Do you wanna see it?"

Arthur shook his head, wishing his temples would stop throbbing. It was dark outside, and the younger man had lit up the oil lamp, making the doctor wonder how much time had actually passed.

"Did you hear about the Ripper striking again last night? It looks like you Brits have quite the catastrophe on your hands!"

The doctor glared up at him, wondering why the hell the man was so loud. Alfred looked back at him, his expression morphing to one of awkwardness.

"Um… Do you…need me?"

_Need_ him? What a ridiculous concept. Arthur Kirkland didn't need anything, nor did he need anyone.

"No. Leave."

He just wanted to finish his work, go home, and drown the voice in alcohol until it didn't bother him anymore.

Alfred flinched, taking a step back. He seemed to reconsider leaving, because he reached for another paper Arthur had under his elbow.

"I told you to leave, Al."

"No. You're not being yourself, and I don't want you to get behind in your work."

"It's none of your damn business!"

_"You're a mistake, Arthur!"_

"What's wrong with you?! You're never like this! Are you sick?" the sandy blonde asked worriedly, placing his hand on the Brit's forehead. Arthur jerked back, standing abruptly from his chair.

_"MISTAKE."_

"Don't you _ever _touch me!" he shouted, his hand making contact with something solid before he even understood what had happened.

Alfred stumbled backward, his hand covering his face. Arthur rushed forward, cornering him against the wall.

"All you do is talk, talk, _talk!_ Do you have _any _idea how goddamn annoying you are?! Always here whether you're wanted or not, taking miles when I've offered an inch! You don't work here as a _doctor_, you're a bloody artist! If you're done with your pictures, get out!"

Alfred removed his hands from his eyes, his glasses crumbling to the floor. He looked up sadly at the furious male.

"I…just wanted to be where you are…"

Arthur grabbed his face, making the younger male squeak in fear. As mad as he was, Arthur was a doctor, and he had to make sure no glass got in the American's eyes.

He looked at the shards sprinkled down Alfred's face. They…were glowing in the fading light from the oil lamp. Almost…making it look like tears.

Tears of someone getting punished for something they didn't understand.

Green eyes scanned over the round face, until they made contact with blue orbs looking uncertainly at him, filled with fear, but…something else as well. Something much more sinister.

Shakily, Arthur leaned forward, brushing their lips together just barely, not certain what he wanted. Alfred gasped, trembling slightly, his hands gripping the wall behind him as his eyes closed.

"Arthur…" he whispered, his lips quivering as more shards fell down.

The doctor growled in frustration, not liking the feeling of not being in control. Their lips touched again, awkwardly, but more firmly. Alfred whimpered quietly, his hands moving to grip the older man's shoulders.

"Shit…" the Brit sighed, his nails digging into the American's hips enough to break the skin as their lips finally met fully.

Their mouths moved together, both of them breathing harshly. Alfred gripped him tightly, blood running down his hips and onto his thighs from Arthur's nails.

The older man's teeth clamped down on the sandy blonde's bottom lip, ceasing the kiss as more blood was drawn.

"Ahh…" the American whined as the iron taste drenched his tongue. Arthur hissed, shoving him back again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he moved toward the door.

Alfred's knees buckled, and he sank to the floor as he watched the doctor leave.

Both had much to think about, but neither could think clearly.

There was no blood going to their brains.

_[Eye on what I'm after, I don't need another friend. Nod and watch your lips move, if you need me to pretend. Because clever got me this far, then tricky got me in. I'll take just what I came for, then I'm out the door again. Lie to get what I came for. Lie to get what I need now. Lie to get what I'm craving. Lie, and smile to get what's mine. Give this to me!]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Ah… I'm exhausted. This chapter took much longer than anticipated because my parents are still here, and they're very curious about what I'm writing… DX_

_ America: Um…so what's next?_

_ England: I took someone's ear?_

_ Sachi: You and your questions! Reviews answer them faster! It's good to be back!_

_ England: *grumbles about how nasty ears are*_


	11. Chapter 11

_*glides in* Hello to you, my lovelies! How's life? Everything going good? No, I'm not just babbling, I really wanna know! I do enjoy learning about all of you, since you're all so kind to me! But enough about that, you're not here to be friendly! UPDATE! Ugh, I know I'm past due. I have quite a bit on my plate these days, but I still strive to make time for all of you. It's also really hard to write when my cat, Toki, won't move so I can get comfy! DX Oh, also, before I forget, I have a story for all of you! _

_So yesterday I was getting ready to go to the movies. I saw _Warm Bodies_. It was super cute! Anywho, As I was getting ready, I heard a bang outside my door. My sister was home, but she was in the shower, so I assumed she dropped something. But when I opened the door, I found my father's flashlight, which was in a completely different room because I had JUST seen it, at the bottom of my door. Which means someone had to have thrown it. And no one could've done that at the time. So it appears I have a ghost. Do any of you believe in ghosts? I do! Anyway, on to your love! __Singing Artist__, yeah, most things are violent in this story, haha. __PersonaNoir__, join the club! Aw, I was your second review? DAMN, wish I was your first~. I love you too! Glad to see a new name! __luckycat222__, ooh, why IS Arthur being a douchebag to Alfred?! Only time will tell. __Quiet. Crash__, hehehe, calm down! It will all work out! __Guest__, sigh. You're not fooling anyone by not signing in, Bunny-chan! __Kira-Lime Orijima__, um…in a non-rapist way? What's wrong with me, huh?! You think I'm not worth raping?! Haha, for real though, thanks for the love and concern! __HetaliaHour__, I will share it all in due time! :D __BrokenHeartedWarrior__, true dat! __darkestlight96__, thank you! Glad to hear it! __Fynniona__, hahaha! It wasn't the most orthodox kiss, but really, normalcy it overrated.__ erihan__, I need all three! Thanks for your concern too! Man, you guys are all so sweet! __Rai Rai Blue__, I need to thank you for talking to me that night on Facebook! You helped me out! Things are good on this end! Hope you can say the same! Kidnapping, eh? Just feed me. __ninjaco0kieXD__, haha, glad you like it! It's not really…cute… I don't know what to call it… Fucked up seems accurate. Let's continue the love! On with the story!_

* * *

_Slept so Long_

_(Jay Gordon)_

_[Walking. Waiting. Alone without a care. Hoping, and hating. Things that I can't bear. Did you think it's cool to walk right up, to take my life, and fuck it up? Well, did you? Well, did you? I see Hell in your eyes. Taken in by surprise (surprise). Touching you makes me feel alive. Touching you makes me die inside.]_

After the whore outside the lodging house was dead, Arthur ran as fast as he could. The horse could still be heard, but the clopping sound of its hooves stopped abruptly. Nonetheless, Arthur jumped the fence a little ways from the lodge, and fought to catch his breath.

He was almost caught. It could've happened then and there. They could've found him and killed him. Or worse, locked him up.

It could've been over, just like that. His mission would stop, and the whores could roam free.

His mother was still in his head, though not as loud. She was never as loud as she used to be, unless he was killing. Then it was like she was right in his ear.

Still gasping for air, he looked toward the night sky. It was late, yet it could still be considered early. The night was rather young, as far as the prostitutes were concerned. And there was always time for…one more.

Yes, it could be considered reckless. But who knew when he would have the opportunity again? When the latest woman's body was found, the city would be on high-alert again. The patrols of the streets would double once more, and he would have to wait at least a month before he could kill again.

He looked at his clothes. He looked rather decent, aside from the wet patch in his front pocket the blood from the ear was causing. He wasn't sure why exactly he was keeping it. He just felt like he should hold on to it as a…souvenir so to speak.

As he roamed the back alley behind the fence, he saw another hopeful victim, just waiting to die…

Begging to die…

How…easy…

He stepped forward, and reached out to claim his prize.

* * *

Arthur sighed as he threw another pint down his throat. This was the fifth one, and he was feeling rather tipsy. What else could he do? It helped.

Everyone was in an uproar. Two bodies were found in the same night, both accredited to the same killer. Both were mutilated. Both were prostitutes. Both were dead now, so it didn't fucking matter.

But everyone else seemed to still care. And they all wanted answers. Or, at least they wanted to talk about it.

Baker was beside him, chatting with Franklin and the unfamiliar bearded man Arthur learned was called "Fischer." They were talking about the double murder, same as everyone else.

It seemed like no one went to a bar to drink anymore.

"Is everything okay, dear?" a kind voice asked. He looked up to see the barmaid above him, her long hair framing her shoulders.

She was one of the few he liked. She seemed to ignore all the men eyeing her, and only had eyes for her husband. It was…the way things should be.

"I'm fine," he slurred as pleasantly as he could. Her large green eyes remained unconvinced.

"If you say so. Try to cut back on the ale. It's not good for you, you know."

"…Wait…do you have an accent?" he asked, not sure if he heard right. When she said "not", it seemed to have an unfamiliar twang. She turned red.

"Ah, um, yes… I'm not really from here… I'm from Hungary. I moved here with my husband a little while ago, and I try to blend in, but it's hard to mask my accent sometimes."

"Hungary?" Arthur asked, his muddled mind trying to remember where exactly that was geographically located.

"Yes. My name is Elizaveta. I've been going by Eliza since I moved here," she explained. "My husband seemed to find something he liked in this country, but I'm not liking it much. No offense to you!"

"None taken. I don't like it here either," he said, motioning to his glass so she would fill it. She looked at him skeptically.

"I think you've had enough."

"I think…you should talk in your accent…" he slurred.

She glared at him, taking his glass away.

"No more for you tonight," she said simply. It was then that a tall man with dark brown hair appeared behind her.

"Is everything alright, Eliza?" he asked her, eyeing Arthur.

"Yes, I'm fine, Roderich," she smiled.

So this man must have been her husband. Huh. He looked kind of…feminine.

He had a cowlick similar to… No.

He would _not_ think of that American twat. He wouldn't.

Roderich's accent was much worse than hers, but he seemed the type to not talk much anyway.

"I have to go see the innkeeper next door. He's supposed to be bringing a lot of his clientele here tomorrow night, and I need to get an idea of just how many of them there will be," he explained to her. "I'll be right back."

As he walked away, Arthur turned back to Elizaveta.

"So…what's he here for?"

She sighed.

"He said it was best for him to come to a growing place like this and…build. He's very into architecture, you see. He's working on a nice inn, and he uses this place to help save money so he can build. But he _hates_ working in places like this," she motioned around, "so I do it for him."

"…You are aware…you're a woman…right? Most women don't…don't work…"

She glared.

"Women don't work because they can't get a chance! I am just as good as any man! I am better than most! Roderich doesn't think anything less of me, and that's why I married him!"

Arthur laughed quietly.

"You're one of the few then," he said, leaving it at that. It was suddenly very loud behind him.

"Hey there, Eliza!" The man known as 'Fischer' said loudly. His beard was so ridiculous, it almost masked his mouth entirely. Or at least, that's how it looked to Arthur, who was drunk off his arse.

Fischer reached out and grabbed her hand, holding it like he owned it. The doctor watched the scene with interest, too far gone to care about right and wrong.

He watched as she politely tried to refuse the advances, and then he watched as the man overpowered her.

For a second.

Then, out of nowhere, she reached back and punched him as hard as she could, making him fly back away from the counter. Arthur's head snapped up in attention as he tried to make sense of what happened.

A small crowd gathered around to observe the scene as it grew deathly quiet. Fischer stood still for a moment, but then he lunged for her, no one bothering to step in between them.

That is, until Arthur's legs moved him forward.

"What the…" he mumbled as he moved in front of Fischer. The bearded man punched him hard, making him fall to the floor.

Everything after that was a blur.

* * *

He woke up, not sure where he was. There was a wet cloth on his head, and a hand was moving it over his face.

"Stoooop," he whined, pushing the hand away. To his dismay, it came back.

"No way. This bruise is getting worse…" an unmistakable voice said quietly.

Arthur shot up, his head making contact with something solid. And _hard_.

"OW! Hey! What the hell!" Alfred yelped. "That's the same spot you punched me in yesterday!"

The doctor looked at him in disbelief, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head so he could focus on the perfect face in front of him.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice sounding scratchy.

"Your place. I found your key in your pocket. You got into a fight last night."

Arthur looked at Alfred's face still, and the American looked like he was the one who was beaten up. He had one black eye, a bruised nose, and a busted lip. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and it took the Brit a moment to remember why.

"A fight with whom…?"

"That big guy at the pub. With the beard? He sent you flying, and then…he got dealt with," Alfred said simply, reaching out to wipe Arthur's forehead with the rag.

"Dealt with?"

"Yeah. He got what he had coming to him."

The doctor looked down at Alfred's free hand, which was bandaged as if he had…punched something.

"Al…"

"He had it coming!" the younger man hissed. "He made you fly over the bar, Arthur! You could've got glass lodged in your head or…something! He had no right! No RIGHT!" Alfred punched the floor with his injured hand.

Arthur watched him interestedly, and then looked at his own bandaged arm, which did seem to sting rather badly.

"Oh, you had glass in there. I got it out with some of your medical tools," the American said.

"…Why did you help me?"

"Huh?"

"After what I did to you… Why did you help me? The proper thing to do would've been to…let him kill me."

Alfred looked at him sadly.

"I…wanted to help."

Arthur growled indignantly.

"That's not what I asked you, Al. Why?"

The man's bright blue eyes seemed to look anywhere but at the doctor, and he bit his injured lip.

"I like you."

"Like me…?"

"You know what I mean."

Arthur tilted his head down so he could be eye-level with the flustered man.

"Look at me, Al," he said quietly. The sandy blonde shook his head defiantly.

The doctor grabbed the man's face, forcing him to look up.

"I can't be with you in that way."

"…Why?"

The blue eyes had such…sadness in them… It was almost inconceivable someone could like him so much.

Why would anyone like him so much? He wasn't worth those tears in the corners of Alfred eyes. He wasn't worth such an innocent being. He couldn't be the one to taint such a soul.

Could he?

"…I…think you should leave… I thank you for aiding me, but it's not right to keep you here if…it's leading you on. I don't feel the same way as you-"

"You kissed me."

"…That was a moment of weakness and-"

"You kissed me because you wanted to. You don't do things unless you want to."

"Listen to me, you little bastard! You don't know as much as you think!"

"I know enough! This is what happened last night! You punched me and started yelling, and I couldn't say anything back! It's not all about you, you narcissist asshole! I'm entitled to my opinion too, and I know you have to feel what I feel!"

His headache now screaming through his skull, Arthur was feeling angry again. He just wanted to sleep, dammit.

"Get out."

"No."

"Get the hell out, Al…"

The American only glared at him, practically daring him to try and make him move.

"Damn little kid, thinking you know everything about everything! You don't know what the world is like, and you have no clue what I'm like! You don't know what you're getting into, what you're asking of me! It's too much! I want you out!"

"Arthur-"

"Out! OUT! GET OUT! GET-"

Alfred lunged forward, crashing their lips together. Arthur gasped, falling back, allowing the American to pin him down and keep their lips together. His arms were pinned above his head, and he couldn't escape the strong grip.

"S-Stop…Stop…"

He ceased his struggles when he found his mouth invaded by the younger man's tongue, curiously licking behind his teeth. He sighed in frustration, not liking how…good it felt. How warm…

How…perfect…

Their mouths glued together, their breaths quickening as their minds were invaded by the smacking noises of their sloppy kisses. Neither had any experience, but the connection…seemed right…

Alfred wouldn't allow their mouths to part any longer than he had to, and Arthur found he got less and less angry with each kiss. A line of drool was running down his chin, and he moaned hungrily when he felt Alfred's tongue chase it down, then back into his mouth.

Arthur's hands roamed down, groping the younger man's backside as his mind emptied of everything else. He wanted to…consume this man…ruin him…_devour_ him…

"I…fucking hate you…God…hate…you…" the Brit hissed each time their kiss ended. Alfred only mumbled in return, knowing it couldn't be true.

After all, the doctor wasn't trying to get away.

_[I've slept so long without you, it's tearing me apart too. How'd it get this far? Playing games with this old heart. I've killed a million petty souls, but I couldn't kill you. I've slept so long without you. I see hell in your eyes. Taken in by surprise. Touching you makes me feel alive. Touching you makes me die inside.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: My throat hurts! BLAHHH!_

_ America: So…who was that in this chapter?_

_ Sachi: Austria and Hungary! I know she goes well with Prussia too, but I think it's so cute how she stays with Mr. Stuffy even when everyone else left. They're so cute!_

_ England: …_

_ America: They are cute!_

_ England: …Maybe a little…_

_ Sachi: Review for love! I'm sitting here waiting to be attacked by a ghost… Sometimes I wonder if my imagination is…overactive… Oooh, tell me if you guys ever had an experience with a ghost! I like to hear about that stuff!_

_ England: Um, Sachi… The story…_

_ Sachi: Right, right. Also review the story and say what you liked. (but mostly the ghost thing.)_


	12. Chapter 12

_Soooo…my nose won't stop running. Isn't that so attractive? Every five seconds I have to sniff (so damn loudly) and attract all kinds of stares. And then, my throat is sore. I blame the weather. For any of you who never lived in Alabama, our weather is different every day. UGH. Anyway, it's Valentine's Day! I'm showing my love for all of you! UPDATE~! It might be short, but it's the thought that counts. It's not like I have anything better to do, haha. So let's get on with your love! __Singing Artist__, nah, I'm not scared. I've lived with ghosts more often than not, haha. Ouiji boards are super dangerous! __Quiet. Crash__, muahaha, I knew you would side with Al! I cut scenes because I'm a tease. __Rebel Lenses__, I won't tell! I have a similar story, but it's my sisters! I never met my granddad, because he died of cancer about two weeks before I was born. My sister was like 5 when he died, so she knew him pretty well. She had a dream one night that he told her he was sorry, but he wouldn't be around for Christmas that year, and she woke up screaming bloody murder. My parents went in there to comfort her, saying it was just a dream, but then the hospital called saying my granddad died a few minutes earlier. Isn't it crazy?! __Ember Hinote__, I liked hearing your story too! I love how aloof Arthur is too! __Guest__, Alfred is getting bold! __luckycat222__, I'm sick! Blah! I do try to bring awesome tears to your awesome eyes! __Dark Contrast__, it's not insane! Haha, at least not to me. Then again, I'm writing this fucked up story, so I don't know how reliable I am. __Cat ears fish tears__, I can't answer those questions! __DrowningHeta__, oh, wow nice tale! And yeah, it is the best kind of love. ;3 __ninjaco0kieXD__, haha, I'm glad you liked it! __Fynniona__, YAY FOR INITIATIVE! If you ever had an encounter with a spirit, you'd know instantly, haha. __darkestlight96__, ghosts don't murder! DX Don't tell me that! *crawls in corner* Happy love day to you all! On with the story!_

* * *

_You've Seen the Butcher_

_(The Deftones)_

_[Don't wanna take it slow. I wanna take you home, and watch the world explode, from underneath your glow. I want to watch your world creep across the sky. You slowly enter, 'cause you know my room. And then crawl your knees off, before you shake my tomb.]_

Arthur sighed again.

It made at least fifteen times in the last minute. He glanced over to the sleeping form next to him, and rolled his eyes at his own stupidity.

His arm was wrapped around the blonde, who was curled into his chest, sleeping soundly.

The doctor had pushed the male off himself earlier before their heated session turned into something far worse. Alfred had whined, and then pitched a small fit, but relented in the end. He decided to invite himself to stay the night with Arthur, and crawled next to said man before he could protest.

Sadly, Alfred had fallen straight asleep, which made his even more desirable, because his face was so…innocent. Which led to Arthur's current predicament.

_Don't force yourself on him_.

The Brit looked over again, letting his eyes slowly scan the angelic face. He sighed again, which brought the total count to sixteen.

At the same time, his mind was roaming miles in minutes. What would he do when he saw those men the next day? What would he say to them if they approached Alfred? How would he explain his bruised face to Chelles?

When…would he be able to kill again?

Maybe it was time…to stop killing so often. It was probably only bringing him unwanted attention. And in a situation like that, attention was the last thing he needed.

But, _oh_, how he craved it.

Even if the public didn't know it was him committing the killings, it still brought him pleasure to know he was the one making them scared. He loved knowing he was the reason no one wanted to be out so late.

Jack the Ripper he would be, until he got what he craved. What exactly he craved…he didn't know yet.

Alfred mumbled something, and scooted closer, making Arthur grit his teeth and look pointedly anywhere except at the male.

_Think of something else. ANYTHING ELSE._

What…was he going to have for breakfast tomorrow? Ugh, really? That's all his mind could think of?!

"Ar…furrrr…"

"What?" the doctor mumbled, still trying to think of something else.

"Why're…you still awake? 'S time to sleep…"

"I'm working on it. You go back to sleep now."

"…Kay…"

Arthur looked at him again, admiring how obedient he was when he was asleep. If only the American was _always _so cute.

Then again, he might not like him as much. Not that he liked him.

Whatever.

He watched the shadows dance across the ceiling as the moon slowly moved across the sky outside. It helped his mind to…wander…

He remembered how his mother always told him she wished he would be more obedient when he was younger.

Then again, she always wished he was anything aside from what he was.

And then, when he was a teenager, his father had left. He had said he was going to the pub to drink some ale, and he never came back.

His mother somehow found a way to blame that on him as well.

After his father was gone, they had to scrounge up whatever they could to make ends meet. Arthur's mother started working later and later.

He didn't find out what she was actually doing for a long time.

Then, one night, he came home early to get his bag. He had achieved getting into medical school, and he was on his way to class.

He had seen his mother on the floor with one of her many 'clients'. She never noticed him there.

But he never forgot it. How could he? It was always on his mind.

Always.

Always.

_ Always_.

He was really doing the world a favor, ridding it of the prostitutes. The scum of the Earth.

He had never told anyone about his mother, because it wasn't any of their fucking business. He only wanted to move past it, but he couldn't.

It was on his mind every time he slit the throat of another whore.

"Mmmmnnn…" Alfred murmured, nuzzling his head into Arthur's chest. The doctor glanced at him again, tracing his busted lip with his thumb.

If only…he had met Alfred a little sooner.

If only he could have seen there were still good people in the world, worthy of life.

If only he could admit he cared more for the American than he had ever cared for anything.

But he couldn't, and it was too late to stop what he was doing. He had to finish his killings. It was…non-negotiable.

He pulled the younger man closer, and kissed the top of his head, silently saying he was sorry he couldn't be more affectionate.

Arthur sighed again.

Which brought the grand total to seventeen.

_[I wanna watch you close. I need to see for sure. And then the tape is on. Who do you think we can show? I want to watch your world creep across the sky. You slowly enter 'cause you know my room. And then you crawl your knees off, before you shake my tomb. You enter slowly. You know my room. You crawl your knees off. And then you shake my tomb.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Yay! Love!_

_ America: I barely had any dialogue!_

_ England: …I thought it was a good chapter._

_ America: …Hey!_

_ Sachi: Review for love! You know you want it more now than ever, since it's the day for love! I'll be all of your valentines! *throws self* _

_ America: Me too! *jumps*_

_ England: …_


	13. Chapter 13

_Hello to you, my lovelies! Did you miss me? I can sense that you did, despite your objections! You know you love me! *evil maniacal laugh* Ahem, now on to further matters. I'm sitting here watching ghost stories on television. I think that might be part of my overactive imagination. It's just so interesting! I believe in lots of crazy things. Ghosts, aliens, Justin Bieber. (They're all real.) I actually believe with all the planets in the universe, and all of the facts, it's more impossible NOT to have aliens. But we're not here for aliens! We're here for this freakshow of a story! On to your love! __Kira-Lime Orijima__, sorry, love. It's deleted. It was getting too repetitive. You can always visit him in WTCF! DX __HetaliaHour__, you're quite welcome! __PersonaNoir__, what! They can't ban you! I'll send a stern letter! __Singing Artist__, thank you! Yes, it does explain Arthur's hatred for women. __luckycat222__, if sighing gives wrinkles, Arthur needs to be concerned! __Dark Contrast__, it's a good thing to be insane! It makes us more fun. __Quiet. Crash__, I'm not cruel! I'm cuddly and loveable! __Rai Rai Blue__, I did stop drinking Monster! I still want it though. I should really start a support group. Zombie flu? Huh. Hope I don't catch it! __darkestlight96__, thank you for saying you liked it! __Fynniona__, Arthur is a complex character, ugh. He's also stuffy, but I love him! __hgge56__, I'll try! Glad you love it! Enough rambling for now! On with the story!_

* * *

_Things That Rhyme With Orange_

_(I Set My Friends on Fire)_

_[I'm so iconoclastic; I'm clastic! I only want you to think I'm fantastic. I'll participate in what you believe, if you give me the attention! Yeah, yeah that's the only compensation! I wanna be included in your conversation. So am I "in" or am I "out"? What is there to think about?! What is that paint brush for? Are you preparing to draw me? No, wait, please don't! I am scared, of what I'll see... I'm not a perfect picture portrait, but I am working on it! I've been thinking about being cool; I must have to admit!]_

The first thing Arthur noticed when he woke up was how cold he felt. He laid there for a moment, not sure why he felt the way he did.

Then he rolled over, and realized Alfred wasn't there.

The second thing he noticed, was how…_sad_ he felt.

Wait, was he sad? He couldn't remember the last time he was sad. He never even felt much sadness when he learned his mother died. If anything, he felt relief.

It was one less person alive to hate.

But here he was, mourning the fact that a noisy American git wasn't here to annoy him.

Upon further inspection, he learned Alfred wasn't anywhere in his home. The younger man had left.

Not that Arthur could blame him. Such a young kid probably had better things to do.

He got ready for work, same as he did every morning. It took a moment for him to remember why he was so sore. But then, he saw his reflection.

His face looked like it had lost a battle with a brick wall. His left arm was bandaged, and was stinging profusely. Of course, it could've been a lot worse.

The American had told him he pulled glass out of it with his surgical tools.

Arthur sighed as he observed his face. One of his eyes was almost closed from the swelling. It was beyond a purplish bruise, and was well on its way to being black. His other eye was bloodshot, no doubt from the amount of alcohol he had consumed the night before.

What made everything worse was the fact that Alfred wasn't there. Had he really grown so accustomed to the other's presence? Was that really why he felt so…disappointed?

He pulled on his coat, and ventured outside into the chilly air.

There was quite a bit of hustle. He observed a crowd of people by the newspaper boy, craning their necks to get a good look at the article the child was waving around.

The doctor's curiosity got the best of him.

He walked closer, standing just at the edge of the crowd. He just barely managed to make out the text.

Another "Ripper" letter was sent to the police.

Again? _Really?_

Were people so bored with their own lives, they had to take credit for someone else's work? It must have been a sad existence.

He should really feel sorry for them.

As it was, he didn't really feel anything. He wasn't angry this time. In all actuality, he had come to expect it. There would probably be more letters sent.

There would be books written.

He was becoming a legend.

He left the crowd, smiling slightly to himself. It was a sign that the city was even more terrified now.

When he arrived at the office, he shook his coat off, and went to his desk. Michelle ran into the room with a confused look on her face.

"Arthur? Why are you here?" she asked.

"Well, my parents decided to have me for whatever reason, and I happen to be alive today, so naturally-" he started.

"No, no, you imbecile. Alfred said you were too ill to work."

"…Is he here?"

"He went to get some more paint supplies a little while ago. He should be back soon. You're late, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," he huffed, secretly grateful that the American was coming back, and was trying to look out for him.

"What happened to you two last night?" Michelle asked.

_"What?_ What do you mean, 'what happened'?! Nothing happened!" the doctor yelped, feeling his face grow hot. She stared at him.

"_Something _had to have happened. You and Alfred both look like you went through a meat grinder. His glasses are broken. I'm amazed he's walking around without bumping into everything."

Oh. She meant their injuries. For a second there, he was hoping he could kill her.

Arthur went to his desk, and had just opened a file, when the door opened, and Alfred walked in.

There was an awkward pause as the two stared at each other, and Michelle stared at them.

"I…thought you would still be asleep…" the sandy blonde muttered.

"It was rather hard. My bed was cold," the doctor replied.

Michelle shot another quizzical glance, and then went into the other room murmuring something about a file she needed.

"I thought you'd be happy I wasn't there," the American said. "You didn't act like you wanted me there last night."

"Al…"

"No, gimme a second. I didn't come here to impede you, and I didn't come here to bother you. I…just like being with you… But if you want me to leave, I will. Just say the word."

Arthur observed him quietly. He looked so…_vulnerable_. The doctor couldn't resist vulnerability. It was when people were in their purest state.

Laying everything on the line, bearing their souls.

Arthur could cut him now, deeper than he ever could with any knife.

But…he didn't want that. He didn't want to hurt the male. The truth was, he _liked_ having him around, and the git was quickly becoming a permanent fixture in his life.

He didn't want to wake up cold anymore.

In fact, he might actually like to wake up…next to Alfred next time. Even if it was only once.

So when Michelle walked back in the room, and asked if either of them were leaving, there was only one answer worth giving.

"We all work here. None of us are leaving. And…I don't want any of us to," the doctor said shortly, going back to his desk. As he passed the sandy blonde, he clasped his shoulder briefly, meeting his bright blue eyes.

Alfred's smile was blinding, and breathtakingly beautiful.

_[It has to be a unanimous determination, because one opinion would be a pointless appreciation. Yeah, sure thanks for the invitation! Don't want to be included in your conversation... It's too late! We've over thrown, I took all your friends, and you're all alone! Blame it on the corporate skyscrapers in the clouds, but if wasn't for you, we wouldn't have all these multiple crowds. How am I supposed to choose, which one I belong to?]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Yay! Arthur wants Alfred! But we all knew that. Hell, the summary says UKUS, so we knew it was coming… Still, yay! Plot development!_

_ America: You know what sounds good? A Snicker's bar._

_ England: I was going to say scones._

_ Sachi: I like scones if they're made right…_

_ America: Don't eat Iggy's scones then._

_ England: DX_

_ Sachi: Review for love! As always, you know you want it! Also a quicker update of the next chapter might be thrust upon you! And a wonderful happy birthday to my Bunny-chan! Hope your day was fantastic! And thank all of you for reading~!_


	14. Chapter 14

_So, here's the parts you've all been waiting for. We're getting to the darker points of this story, and it just can't be dark without some violent loving, now can it? I was going to wait until a bit later, but then I was hit with another idea for the chapter I was PLANNING to put it on, so I can move the crazy scene up some. I've been thinking about this scene for a while, and I'm putting myself in the place of the characters, since that's how I write, and I must say…I'm pretty damn fucked up. But then again, who isn't, right? Before we get to the good stuff, we gotta get to your love! __Kira-Lime Orijima__, sorry! DX Thanks for understanding! __Guest__, sigh. __Singing Artist__, canaries taste weird. You're quite welcome, darling! __ninjaco0kieXD__, how can Arthur have him if you have him? Silly. __Quiet. Crash__, it is a step forward! We have to be proud of Arthur. This is all so new to him. __luckycat222__, IT IS AWESOME! Share your Snickers! __Fynniona__, I like the attachment too~~. __darkestlight96__, thank you!__ HetaliaHour__, I'm trying! __Arthurtwerkland__, I LOVE your username! Glad you're reviewing for me~! __AwesomeAviator__, thank you so much! I'm trying really hard to get my facts straight, you know! Enough of my rambles, since I don't want any of you to grow impatient with me. On with the (fucked up as hell) story~!_

* * *

_REV 22:20_

_(Puscifer)_

_[Don't be aroused, by my confession. Unless you don't give a good goddamn about redemption. I know, Christ is comin', and so am I. You would too if this sexy devil caught your eye, she'll suck you dry. And still you'll cry, to be back in her bosom. To do it again. She'll make you weep, and moan and cry, to be back in her bosom. To do it again.]_

Arthur stretched leisurely. He looked in the floor, because for whatever reason, the American seemed to reside there more often than not.

Alfred had told him it was easier to paint on the ground. The doctor chose not to question it, because honestly, there was no point. He had long since assumed the younger man was insane.

He smiled to himself. Him saying anyone was insane was like the pot calling the kettle black.

Sure enough, the American was there, steadily working on another painting. Arthur had lost count on how many this would make. Their office was full now, and other physicians were requesting charts as well. Not to mention, the patients wanted painting of other things.

Alfred Jones was a commodity. Yet, for whatever reason, he chose to spend any free time he obtained with the doctor. They were currently in Arthur's house.

It had already been a month since the last killing. Arthur still wanted to let time pass before he tried to kill anymore. Not to mention, all his free time was now spent with the younger male currently taking up all his floor space.

He had long since come to terms with the fact he couldn't ignore the attraction anymore, but he was faced with a new battle now. Did Alfred expect…anything sexual from him?

How was he supposed to explain to the American that the only way he could get off was to…hurt him?

Violence was the key. It was the only thing that could make the Brit feel anything. Or at least, it used to be. And he wasn't heartless enough to put the younger male through that.

But, _God_, was it hard.

"What are you painting _now?_" Arthur asked, watching Alfred interestedly. The American's head snapped up.

"Something," he grinned, going back to work.

Arthur 'hmphed', before he started signing more paperwork. Still, his eyes traveled over to the sandy blonde.

His eyes scanning the canvas… His tongue poking out of his lips whenever he was concentrating on his work… His hands moving with more precision than anyone would ever think he was capable of…

And then, Arthur realized he had lost minutes just staring at the younger man. He blinked, and then sighed as he rubbed his eyes, trying to get his head together.

He didn't want to ruin whatever the two of them had going.

Lately, he had enjoyed having the male around. Alfred only stayed the night now if Arthur invited him. More often than not, he would just stay late, and then leave. The doctor didn't trust himself to have the sandy blonde over all the time. Something was bound to happen.

Even more strange, Alfred never seemed to try to force anything like he did that first night. They hadn't even kissed since that night. Perhaps he was waiting on Arthur to make the move, but if that was the case, he would keep waiting.

The Brit glanced up when he realized someone was standing over him.

"I finished it," Alfred grinned, holding something behind his back.

"Oh? Let's see it then," Arthur replied, leaning back in his chair.

Green eyes widened when the canvas was revealed. Alfred had painted…_him_. Arthur marveled at it, feeling as though he was looking in a mirror, yet…a better version of himself.

The dark circles that he knew were present on his face, weren't there. He didn't look as tired as he knew he was. His eyes weren't listless, and his expression wasn't sullen. Is this how the American viewed him? As…someone normal?

Or perhaps, Alfred hadn't painted him in the right light. They _were_ sitting in semi-darkness, after all. The oil lamp was burning low.

"What do you think?" Alfred asked, a hint of nervousness present in his tone.

"It's…me," the doctor said.

"But do you _like_ it?"

Arthur held his temples, gritting his teeth.

"Really, Al… What _is _your fascination with me? I don't get it."

The sandy blonde huffed, and set the painting in the floor. Then, he moved behind the doctor, and placed his hands on the older man's shoulders.

"Tell me what you don't like about it," he whispered in Arthur's ear.

"You made me look like I'm actually attractive. You forgot to add wrinkles and stuff," the Brit sighed. "It's completely unrealistic."

"You don't have wrinkles," Alfred said, applying pressure to the massage. "And I drew you how everyone sees you. I even put your monstrous amount of paperwork under you."

"Gee, thanks."

Arthur moaned as the American kneaded his shoulders, his head leaning forward.

"Shit, Al…"

Alfred chuckled, continuing his ministrations. The doctor was vaguely aware of the man's lips on his neck, steadily kissing upwards. But he couldn't tell him to stop.

Arthur leaned his head back, giving the American more skin to kiss. The younger male groaned his appreciation, and then…his hands roamed down to work the button on the doctor's trousers.

"Ah, Al…"

"Shhh…"

The Brit felt hands turn his face, and then his mouth was invaded by Alfred's tongue. He tried to pull away, but then his traitorous mouth started to kiss back, his hands moving on their own to tug at the sandy blonde mop of hair.

Arthur felt his pants being pulled away. He growled in warning, but the American was too far gone to heed the warning. Alfred cupped the front of his underwear, causing the Brit to hiss as his hips thrust forward.

Stop, stop, stop…

Why couldn't he say that? He _needed_ to stop this… He was about to hurt Alfred… He didn't _want _this…

The hands were now inside his underwear, stroking from base to tip.

Stop…stop…

"Ahh…God…"

Alfred groaned hungrily, one hand moving faster while the other moved down to fondle his balls.

Stop! Stop!

Arthur's eyes clenched shut, his head leaning back to rest on the sandy blonde's shoulder as he was losing himself in the pleasure. He needed to…

But, damn…

Finally, when he was close to release, Alfred's teeth nipped his ear, grounding him enough to shove the man away.

The American looked at him questioningly as the Brit tried to catch his breath.

"Was it bad?" he asked innocently.

Arthur growled, standing from the chair. He grabbed a handful of the sandy blonde hair, and shoved him in the chair, still keeping his grip. The younger male was forced to look up at him.

"You just never give up, do you?"

Alfred's eyes were full of fear, but he shook his head nonetheless. He winced when the grip on his hair tightened.

"I think I've made it perfectly clear…that I don't want you to touch me…" Arthur hissed through gritted teeth. He moved his face closer to the younger males, and tugged him forward so their noses were touching.

"You think I'm someone nice to you? You think I _care_ about you?"

Alfred nodded.

So this is what it had come to, was it?

They were at this point now, and Arthur was too far past the point of no return to care. His member was throbbing by this point, and he needed release. Unfortunately for Alfred, he had just volunteered himself.

"On your knees…" the doctor hissed, releasing the grip he held on the other's hair. Alfred looked up at him, before he scrambled to do as he was told. He sat in the floor, in front of the Brit.

"Sorry…" Arthur breathed, caressing the man's face. Alfred's fearful face was visible, before it was shoved forward to engulf the doctor's throbbing arousal.

The sandy blonde was gagging, his hands hitting the Brit's thighs to tell him he couldn't handle it, but that was irrelevant. It didn't stop the older man from shoving forward, until he felt himself hit the back of Alfred's throat.

Arthur groaned blissfully, his hands shoving the male's head forward, then pulling him back. Tears were streaming down the American's face, but his hands had ceased their struggles. Maybe he had realized his efforts were useless.

"God… This is so…fucking good…" the Brit sighed, thrusting forward again. His eyes rolled back in his head when Alfred tried to reply, his voice causing vibrations.

He was shocked when the sandy blonde's arms wrapped around his thighs, helping him move.

Infuriated, he yanked the man away from himself, and shoved him on the floor. Alfred was breathing heavily on the floor, curled into himself as he fought to catch his breath. Arthur crawled over him, keeping his eyes locked on those tear filled blue orbs staring fearfully back at him.

"Do you have some sort of masochistic fetish?" he asked the American, brushing his fingers over the drool covered lips.

Alfred was glaring at him now, his eyes half-hidden behind the shine on his glasses. He wiped his mouth, but kept defiantly silent.

"Could it be…that you like being treated like an object?" Arthur asked, breathing directly into his ear. The blonde shivered, closing his eyes.

The doctor chuckled, his hand moving down to caress the younger man's member. Alfred's mouth opened wide, a small squeak coming out.

"Please…please…" he whined, his hands holding Arthur's face close to his.

"Oh, found your voice? Please what?"

Alfred placed his hand over the Brit's, pushing down to emphasize.

"You want me to jerk you off, Al? Pleasure you until you reach your climax?"

The American nodded.

"I don't think I can do that. I think we're past that."

"…H-Huh?"

"No matter what I do, you never listen to me. I'll just have to show you…how bad I am for you," Arthur whispered, tugging Alfred's pants, and underwear down past his ankles.

The American hissed as his member hit the cold air. The doctor admired the view for a moment, before he flipped him over into his stomach.

"Wha… Arthur! Don't…"

"Shut up."

Alfred gritted his teeth, his face shoved against the floor as his backside was displayed in the air.

"I'll show you…what it means to be with me…"

"Arthur…"

The sandy blonde moaned loudly as something smooth and velvety entered him, softly at first. He was able to turn his head just enough to see what was going on. Arthur's tongue was inside him, stretching him.

"Ahh…please…"

The Brit growled, shoving his tongue in further, allowing just enough to stretch, but barely enough to pleasure.

Alfred was panting in front of him, desperately trying to snap his hips back, bit the grip was too strong. He was putty.

"Hahhh…ahhh…Arthur…"

The doctor finally placed his whole tongue inside, making the man on display in front of him almost scream. But before it became too much, he pulled away. Alfred whined at the loss, but knew what was coming next.

Arthur positioned behind him, not even giving warning before he started to push his member inside. Alfred bit his lip, refusing to make any noise as he was stretched past his limit.

The doctor groaned blissfully, shoving the rest of himself in the tight heat, not allowing for time to adjust before he started moving. The sandy blonde's lip was bleeding, his teeth digging in to the point of almost biting through.

"Why so quiet? This… This is what you wanted, right?" Arthur asked, slamming forward. Alfred yelped, unable to contain it any longer.

"If you mattered to me, would I do this? Would I hurt you like this?"

No answer.

The doctor gripped his hair again, riding down, tugging the locks simultaneously.

"Aaah…" Alfred released, his nails bending back as he scratched at the floor. Arthur growled in agreement, going deeper into the other, not caring if he was hurting him.

"I hate you…" he hissed in the American's ear. "This pain, this is what you make me feel…"

Alfred whimpered.

"You come here… You force me to feel these things… D-Do you know…how hard it is to feel anything…when I've gone so long without it…?"

"Mmm…Arthur…aaah…"

"You deserve this. You…hahh…God… You deserve this…"

Alfred started moving back against him, meeting his every thrust, pushing him closer towards the edge of oblivion. The doctor rode greedily, trying to reach his limit, his nails digging into the younger man's hips, drawing blood.

"Aaaahhhh! Arthur!" Alfred screamed, releasing first. His entire body was shaking as he clenched tightly against the Brit's arousal, forcing him to finish as well.

"Hate you… I hate you…" the doctor mumbled, falling on top of him. They both fought to catch their breath, neither daring to speak a word.

Finally, Arthur caught his breath enough to pull out of the male. He noticed the red mixed with the white, emitting from inside Alfred. He had ripped him.

Figures.

To his surprise, Alfred seemed perfectly fine. Albeit short of breath, but not showing any signs of pain.

Arthur rolled beside him, placing his hands on the American's face, forcing their gazes to meet.

"You don't…hate me…" Alfred grinned cheekily, his eyes half closed.

"Shut the hell up," Arthur growled, holding him closer despite his words.

The two were tangled as they both drifted off, neither bothering to clean up.

"I love you…" Alfred mumbled almost incoherently.

Arthur didn't hear him anyway.

_[My pulse has been rising, my temples are pounding, the pressure is so overwhelming, and building, so steady there, Freddy, I'm ready to blow. What is she, what is she, what is she waiting for?(Pray) Pray til I go blind (Pray) Pray cause no one ever survives. Prayin' to stay in her arms just to die longer. Saviors and saints, devils and heathens alike, she'll eat you alive.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Cough._

_ America: *blushes*_

_ England: Is that it?_

_ Sachi: Hey! This took a while! And it's a lengthy update too! So review for love! Till next time, my lovelies!  
_


	15. Chapter 15

_I'm back, baby! Ugh, we had a long issue with our internet. Then we each had to call the people, have our own arguments with them, and then finally convinced them to come look at it today. The problem? Loose wire. All that trouble, and a month of no updates because of a loose wire. I guess that's life though. I'm trying to update while I can, because I'm starting a second job tomorrow, and who knows when I'll have the time, or energy, to write again? So let's get on with this! Ron Burgandy, haha, not really. It was a month in between. ninjaco0kieXD, I love you too! There will be a next time~! Quiet. Crash, haha, I missed writing them! Sesi Braginskaya, I think he's the best seme too. I'm glad you liked the chapter! luckycat222, Arthur…may have gotten carried away. Yay! *gobbles Snickers* Rai Rai Blue, punished?! I gave you smut, woman! Blahhh! Singing Artist, we're all a LITTLE masochistic. Smut is the best! You stay awesome too~! Dark Contrast, I love that song too, haha. It helps to be stared at every now and then. Fynniona, I love mean and aggressive Arthur! Guest, yay! I love Jack the Ripper too! With all the possibilities to incorporate into a story about history, I couldn't resist. Now, enough of my drabble! On with the story!_

* * *

_Most Beautiful Plague_

_(Say Anything)_

_[Baby! You don't wanna make me cry, or I will fill you with the emptiness inside. Okay! Alright! Baby! You don't wanna say goodbye, or I will soak you in this rich formaldehyde. 'Cause you're beautiful tonight… And the stars are burning bright. And I give this curse to you, like there's nothing else to do. So let the purple sky explode. Let it shower us with toads. Let the scarlet river flood, so it can drown us all in blood. I just hope you don't… I hope you don't.]_

Arthur stirred when he felt a chill in the air. As he opened his eyes, he could make out the faint light coming through his windows. Dawn was breaking.

Christ, it was early.

He blinked when the man in his arms nuzzled further into his chest, mumbling incoherently.

"Al?"

"Mmmnn?"

"…Let's go get in the bed. It's not good to sleep in the floor."

Instead of a response, the American whined.

"Come on now! You don't blame me later when your back hurts."

Arthur stood up first, feeling stiffness in his back…among other places. He observed as his counterpart tried to stand, but seemed to be having a much harder time.

"Al?"

"…Hurts…"

Then, suddenly, it all seemed to come back at once. What they had shared the night before, what he had done to Alfred. Yet, at the same time, the younger male had seemed to want it…right?

Sighing in frustration with himself, Arthur went to the sandy blonde, acting as a crutch to help him up the stairs to the bedroom.

"Ah, thanks…" Alfred mumbled, burying himself in the covers. "That's much better."

The Brit eyed him skeptically, and then made his way to the other side of the bed to join him. As soon as he sat down on the mattress, the younger man was pulling him down, trying to curl around him.

"After everything that happened last night, how can you still want to be near me?" the doctor asked miserably. It was the first time in a long while he had felt remorseful about anything.

But it was hitting him hard.

"It's what it means to be with you, right?" Alfred asked, quoting him from the night before.

"…Yes. If you want to be with me, you're going to be hurt. I can't tell you it's not going to happen again."

"I want it to."

Arthur faced him, looking directly into his endless blue pools.

"How can you say that?"

"…I dunno. I just know it's true."

"Nothing can be that simple, Al. You'd have to be an imbecile not to realize this is bad for you."

"Do you want me to leave?" Alfred asked him quietly.

"If I said yes, would you?"

"…If you meant it."

Arthur cursed, yanking at his own hair.

"You're exhausting."

"You never answered the question, Arthur."

"I'm still here, aren't I?! And you're still alive! So I'm guessing I don't want you to leave! Now shut the hell up!"

Alfred giggled, moving closer to the frazzled doctor.

"You've got such a bad temper."

It was silent for a few minutes. Arthur was trying to let the younger male sleep, and Alfred was simply enjoying the silence.

Of course, he was still the first to shatter it.

"Tell me something about you no one else knows," the American said.

"I'm a murderer."

"I'm being serious!"

Arthur sighed, propping himself on his elbow.

"I…like…"

What did he like? More importantly, what was safe for him to admit liking? It had been a long time since anyone had actually asked for his opinion on anything. It wasn't exactly the easiest thing to answer.

"If you have to think so hard, you're not doing it right," Alfred huffed. "You don't know what you like and don't like?"

"You go first."

"I like going to your office."

"…Okay?"

Alfred flailed around a little.

"You said before you thought I might get bored there! I don't get bored! I like it there!"

The doctor stared at him blankly.

"I was hoping for something more interesting."

Alfred glared at him, then tried to think.

"I used to want to be a doctor."

"Why?"

"Because doctors help people. I thought it would be the coolest thing in the world to save a life. I really look up to you, you know."

Great. The idiot looked up to him for saving lives, not knowing he took life away as well.

"I like the ocean," Arthur said quietly.

"Huh?"

"I like the ocean. I've always wanted to go somewhere warmer, maybe live by the ocean. That…would make me happy."

"We have lots of beaches in America."

"So I've heard."

"Why do you like the ocean so much?"

"It's calm. But most of all, it's mysterious. I know almost everything there is to know about life on the surface, but I don't know anything about the ocean. I suppose that's why I like it," Arthur said, absentmindedly combing his fingers through sandy blonde hair.

"Did you always want to be a doctor?" the younger man asked.

"I never wanted to be a doctor. I don't care about people. I wanted to make something of myself, to prove a point to a few people, but it doesn't matter. That was an immature way to attain my doctorate, but I have it now, so I guess that's all that matters."

"You're still not happy," Alfred said. It wasn't a question.

"No. No, I'm not."

"I'm not either."

"I don't suppose anyone is these days. It's hard to be."

More silence, aside from their quiet breathing. Alfred's eyes were drooping, and he seemed close to sleep. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek, still nervous about the younger man looking up to him.

"Al… What if I'm not the person you idolize so much? What if I'm someone else?"

The American giggled again, opening one eye to look up at the Brit.

"That's fine. No one is who they say they are."

_[Let the purple sky explode! Let it shower us with toads. Let the scarlet river flood. Let it drown us all in blood. Tonight, I guess, I'm human, so thank you for fighting and having sex with me. Tonight, I guess, I'm human, so thank you for fighting and having sex with me. Oh!]_

* * *

_Sachi: Why am I so tired?! I slept late today! _

_America: This was a short chapter._

_Sachi: Eh, yeah, but we're moving into another arc soon, so this was a little break time with our two favorite blondes. _

_England: How long until the next update?_

_Sachi: *sigh* I wish I knew, guys. I'm gonna be very busy, very soon. Just leave me love, don't forget me, and know I love you! We'll meet on the next chapter, and I swear, I'll post it as soon as I can. Much love!_


	16. Chapter 16

'_Sup, mah loves? I'm still trying to wind down after a long day at work. I don't have to be back at work till 4pm tomorrow, so I'll spoil you a little. This week… Ugh, this week has been emotionally exhausting. I'm so ready to relax, but I'm nowhere near it. But, the good news is, I love my new job! I'm still the awkward new person, but I like the work, and everyone I've met thus far has been very nice. Not to mention, there's a huge vending machine near the break room that sells junk food. You try working a whole shift with no Skittles. It's next to impossible. But, we need to focus on the story! Now, as for the whole 'arc' thing, those of you who are unfamiliar with what that means, it basically means we're about to move into the next major part of the story. It's not necessarily going to be as long as the first arc, which was getting Arthur to admit his feelings. I know he technically still hasn't said everything, but he's said enough. Now we're moving into the next part, which gets darker. We actually don't have too much longer to go! But again, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's move to your love! __Diclonious57__, I'm so sorry I missed yours last time! Thank you very much! __Mmmmmmyyyeeeeeaa__, …If you don't start signing your name, I'm pitching a fit, Bunny-chan! How am I going to scroll back and find all your old reviews when I'm bored or sentimental and you haven't signed them?! DX __Rai Rai Blue__, I did too respond to your review well. Hmph. You're supposed to come kidnap me so I can have a vacation! With…yarn! And junk food! __Quiet. Crash__, it is the calm~! Yes, arc two! __Siku Kirkland__, ugh, cold snow. Internet problems are the worst. First world problems. __Singing Artist__, I love you too! Relax after flying! __ninjaco0kieXD__, I can't answer~! Hehehe. __luckycat222__, yes, level unlocked indeed! I wanna go to the ocean too! __Enterthetaiga__, glad to be back! __erihan__, yay! Consider it a present! __darkestlight96__, thanks for the luck wishes! And I'm glad you liked the chapter! Now, my lovelies, I must get on with the story!_

* * *

_Tiger Mountain Peasant Song_

_(Fleet Foxes)_

_[Wanderers this morning came by. Where did they go? Graceful in the morning light, to banner fail, to follow you softly in the cold mountain air. Through the forest, down to your grave. Where the birds wait, and the tall grasses wave. They do not know you anymore. More, more, more.]_

Arthur looked over to the bookshelf in the office. He had been considering reorganizing it for quite some time, but never seemed to get around to it.

Where had his time gone? It was once his most valuable resource. Now, it was another thing he never noticed anymore. Much like everything else in his life, aside from the newest edition to it.

It was amazing, really. Someone who only a few months ago had meant nothing to him, was steadily becoming everything to him. How had this happened? More importantly, how could he have let it happen?

Nonetheless, it had happened, and he was learning to accept it. Arthur found himself thinking about the future more often than not. That in itself was a completely ludicrous concept. He used to avoid all thoughts relating to the topic.

He never thought he would have a future. The future he was currently envisioning was still not very promising, but at least he had someone to share it with.

_Someone to share it with…_

He smiled to himself at the thought. Someone he actually wanted around. It was crazy, even to him.

Speaking of the sandy blonde, he hadn't come to work yet. True, he didn't technically work there, but he did use the office as his work space. His paints and canvases were scattered all over the place.

"Where's the little cutie today?" Michelle asked from the other room, steadily filing patient charts.

"I don't know. I haven't heard from him. He'll probably show up later. You know how he is," Arthur responded. He wasn't really too worried when he didn't hear from the American for a while.

The young man was more than capable of defending himself.

Besides, he had to play doctor for a few more hours before he could think about anything else, and if Alfred had better things to do, that was his business. Arthur wasn't the type to keep tabs on people, not even the American.

The day passed by rather uneventfully. Their patients came in with common ailments, and Boone came in again, this time complaining that he thought he had a brain tumor. After convincing him to leave, the Brit was more than happy that it was time to leave.

For once, he didn't want to go home to an empty house. Although Alfred still technically resided at the inn across the city, he more often than not stayed with the doctor, claiming to be more comfortable.

Deciding against going home for the time being, he went across the street to the pub. Elizaveta greeted him warmly, still grateful to him for defending her against the bearded man that time so long ago. Fischer hadn't been seen since Alfred had beat him to a pulp after Arthur was sent flying across the bar.

Good riddance, as far as the Brit was concerned.

"Oh, but where is the cute man that's normally with you?" Elizaveta asked, looking around.

"I haven't seen him today. He's probably annoying someone else for once. He'll show up eventually. He always does."

Still, Arthur felt a little inkling of concern. This was the longest he had gone without seeing the younger male in a long time. It wasn't like Alfred to disappear.

"Ah, I'm sure he'll come by later. It seems like whenever you're around, he trails after. Almost like a little puppy," she smiled at him, moving down the bar to help another man.

Arthur drained a few pints, careful not to reach the amount of drunkenness he had attained previous times before. For once, he was only trying to kill time, not his feelings. It made things much more interesting when he could feel them.

And Alfred was almost like anesthesia, making it beautifully bearable to feel things as strongly as he possibly could.

"I never asked how you and the Austrian are doing," the doctor said when the bar maid returned. She blinked.

"Did you…just ask how my marriage is doing?" she asked in disbelief. He rolled his eyes at her.

"Yes, I did. Is that so unbelievable?"

"People in this city don't usually ask me things like that. Everyone is always so wrapped up in their own problems. You'd think, with this job, that I would see people slow down every now and then, but I don't. I see them drinking to forget where they have to be, what they've seen, and what they've done. It's awful."

Arthur only gave her a sympathetic look, not sure how to respond.

"You used to be one of them," she continued.

"I don't drink to forget my problems," the Brit said flatly.

"Maybe not. Maybe you're trying to forget something bad you've done in the past, or anything else, who knows? But you're different now. You and that young man come in every now and then, and I watch you enjoy each other's company. I see how you look at each other."

Arthur gripped his glass tightly, afraid for her to say anything else. He really didn't want to have to kill her. He liked her.

To his surprise, she gripped his free hand, and gave him a gentle smile.

"If anyone can inspire you to change for the better, you need to keep them around. You need to spend every day telling them how grateful you are. That's what I did when someone came along and told me I was more than what everyone had always told me. He gave me a purpose, and I work as hard as I can to prove him right."

The doctor smirked at her, deciding he didn't care if she knew about him and Alfred or not. She wasn't the type to gossip. He nodded to her, and shot the rest of the pint back, before he stood from the stool to leave.

"And to answer your question!" she called to him as he was heading toward the door. "Roderich and I are doing great!"

He smiled back at her, and then exited the pub, almost running into someone.

"Oh, pardon me-" the man said, freezing when he saw who he had almost ran into. It was Baker, followed closely by Franklin. The men who were good friends with the bearded man, Fischer.

Neither of them said anything. They hurried back to the end of the bar, not greeting Arthur at all, who found this very strange. He usually hated talking to them, but he knew well enough when something wasn't right.

He decided he would look into it later. He was hoping Alfred would be at his house, waiting outside. He hoped they could talk a little, maybe talk about the future, just fir a few minutes. Just long enough to pretend they might have one.

That's all Arthur wanted.

He made his way home briskly, not sparing a passing glance to anyone. Maybe Elizaveta was right. Maybe things could change. Maybe, just maybe, he could start over. Maybe he didn't have to kill again. Maybe that's why he hadn't been caught yet.

He froze when he heard a rustling in an alleyway, near his home. He was going to continue, but the gasps he heard made his reconsider. He journeyed toward the noise, the curiosity getting the better of him. That's when his world froze.

Alfred was there, a bloodied heap, crawling toward the doctor's house. He wasn't even able to crawl on his knees anymore. His hands were pulling his entire body, barely a centimeter at a time.

"AL!" Arthur screamed, rushing toward him, mind void of everything else. He dropped to his knees beside the now heaving American, telling him to stop trying to move.

"A…Arth…Arthur…"

"Shhh, you git, be quiet. I need to see how bad your injuries are," Arthur said frantically, trying to remain as calm as he could.

"Wanted…to see you…"

"Shush, I said!"

"See…you…"

Green eyes widened at the gashes he saw all over the man's body. The worst of them was in his skull, half hidden behind the mop of sandy blonde hair. Someone had beaten him with a blunt object.

"It's alright, you're going to be fine," the doctor said, not wanting to startle the man with the revelation of how bad his injuries actually were. "I just need to get you inside and wrap these up, that's all. Stop the bleeding. You'll be fine."

Alfred giggled quietly, coughing up a little blood as he tried to roll over and face the man above him. His blue eyes were unfocused and glassy.

Arthur had seen that look before. It was the look of someone close to death.

"Hey! Hey, you stay conscious, you hear me?! You've lost too much blood, you have to stay awake!"

"…You…"

"What?" Arthur asked, leaning forward.

"Love…you…"

Then Alfred's head rolled to the side, his eyes closed. The Brit began shaking him profusely, most likely making the injuries worse.

"Hey! Wake up! Wake up, you hear me?! You have to stay conscious! Al! ALFRED! Wake up, damn you!"

There was no response, no anything. Arthur placed his head on the American's chest, trying to locate a heartbeat. He couldn't hear one.

"Oh no you don't!" the doctor hissed, beginning to give the man chest compressions. "Breathe! Breathe!"

He blew air into Alfred's mouth, continuing his compressions, refusing to give up.

"You have to stay with me, you hear me? I need you to stay with me! I haven't told you what I need to yet!"

More compressions, more breaths.

"I never told you that you do matter to me! You do, Al! I'm sorry it took so long!"

Arthur wiped some moisture away from his eyes as he continued to work on the male.

"I have so much to discuss with you! We have to plan ahead! We have to pretend! YOU LET ME PRETEND! WAKE UP!"

One, two, three… One, two, three…

"I never told you… I never told you…"

Finally, a short gasp, followed by a scream of pain from Alfred, his blue eyes opening a fraction to look up at Arthur.

"How happy…I am I met you…"

_[In the town one morning I went. Staggering through premonitions of my death. I don't see anybody that dear to me. Dear shadow, alive and well. How can the body die? You tell me everything… Anything…true.]_

* * *

_Sachi: *yyaaaaawwwwwwnnnnnn* Mmm, I'm finally sleepy…_

_America: Hey! Wake the hell up and tell me I'm okay!_

_England: You can't end it like that!_

_Sachi: I can, and I am. Muahahaha. Besides, even if I was wide awake, I'd still end it here. _

_America: DX_

_Sachi: Review for a quick update! You know you wanna know what happens to little Alfie! (Also you can have some love if you review. If you want it.)_


	17. Chapter 17

_I figured, since I left you with such a cliffhanger, you'd probably crave an update. So here I am! My day was pretty horrible, but hey, lots of days are. I hope everyone else had a great Easter Sunday. I'm pretty good about updating, right?! I mean, I left you hanging, but I'm here to catch you now, so I want some cuddles! I got some pretty amazing feedback, but I always do when I threaten to kill a character, haha. On to your love! RebelLenses, YES! Fynniona, no, they won't be happy for long. So glad you think it never gets boring! Sesi Braginskaya, I always keep the damn thing going! Muahaha! KurohimeHitsugaya, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! AND I SHALL! Ember Hinote, he might be! Elisabetta, you'll see who dared! That was a pretty graphic review, haha. We might have another Jack the Ripper here. AwesomeAviator, maaaaaaayyyyybbbeeeee! I can't say! Loca, I'm so glad you love it! I try to make it very eventful. Rai Rai Blue, you can't believe most things I do. That's what makes me interesting. Plus, I totally warned you. You were the only one to get a warning! Feel special! Singing Artist, I shall update! Okay is a loose term. ncalkins, haha, revenge is most likely, isn't it? DX, ssssaaaaaaadddddddd. luckycat222, it's okay to love him! I won't tell Arthur. *cough* Quiet. Crash, cruel?! I'm loving and sweet. And awesome. Oh, you love my cruelty? Okay, I'm cruel. I can't say what will happen! ninjaco0kieXD, I ACCEPT YOUR LOVE! Your bet is right! Now, READ ON! READ ON! READ ON! READ UNTIL THE END COMES TO YOU! *hehehe*_

* * *

_This Place is a Prison_

_(The Postal Service)_

_[This place is a prison. And these people aren't your friends. Inhaling thrills through $20 bills, and the tumblers are drained and then flooded, again and again.  
There's guards at the on ramps, armed to the teeth. And you may case the grounds from the cascades to puget sound. But you are not permitted to leave.]_

The candle flickered for the hundredth time. There were two men in the room, but neither of them were talking. One was unconscious, and the other was staring at his sleeping face.

Arthur had dressed the wounds, and was currently sitting at the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the American's unconscious form. He couldn't believe the amount of damage done to Alfred. Most amazing of all was how Alfred was still alive.

Granted, he had almost died, but Arthur was refusing to think about that. He couldn't allow himself to feel that amount of fear again. It would lead to something…something horrible.

A man who can't control his emotions is more likely to destroy everything by trying to fix everything. That's what Doctor Arthur Kirkland had always believed.

When he was younger, he never let his parents see him cry. When his father left, he never gave his mother the satisfaction of knowing she got to him. When his mother died, he shed not a single tear, and when he received word his father died, it was like hearing about the weather.

It didn't matter how things used to be though. Not anymore. He was doing his best to focus on Alfred, and make sure the man kept breathing, but oh, how his mind wanted to know…

Just who did this…to his property...

Just then, the sandy blonde coughed violently, his body jerking as more blood shot from his mouth. Arthur held him down, and used his free hand to wipe the blood away with a handkerchief.

"Shhh," he said. "It's alright."

Alfred's bandaged hand rose to grab the doctor's, and the cold fingers gripped whatever they could reach. Arthur watched sadly, gripping the hand in return.

He wished he could help. But like every other time, he was too late to try and do anything. All he could do was wait for his patient to wake up.

So that's what he did.

Michelle came by the first day he missed work, wanting to know why the hell he hadn't shown up. He told her to make a list of everyone who came in the next few days, and not to send anyone to his house unless they were legitimately dying.

The second day, Edgar Boone tried to come to his house, but he told the man to go perform sodomy on himself. In the nicest way possible, of course.

The third day, no one came by. Arthur stayed by Alfred's side, waiting for any changes. There still weren't any.

Night fell, and the doctor was preparing to place his head in his arms and sleep at the foot of the bed, same as the other nights, when Alfred spoke for the first time.

"I'm…sorry…"

Arthur jolted up, scooting his chair to the head of the bed as fast as he could. He focused on the hazy blue orbs staring back up at him, tears steadily falling from them.

"Hey, what's this now? Shhh, why are you crying?" the Brit asked quietly, brushing the tears away. "Everything is okay, you're going to be fine."

"I lied…to you…"

"You can tell me later. You need to rest, love. You've suffered a severe amount of trauma."

"Ar…Arthur…"

"Listen to me, you idiot! Sleep! You almost died! Do you remember that?! You were choking on your own blood, and I had to revive you! Now sleep, damn you!"

Alfred's eyes closed, still pouring tears, his hands gripping the front of Arthur's shirt as he drifted off. The Brit sighed, crawling in the bed next to him. He held the American closer than he had ever held anything. It seemed to be the only logical thing to do.

* * *

The sound of chirping birds woke the doctor. It was bright in the room, most likely close to the afternoon. He turned his head toward the other side of the bed. To his surprise, Alfred was staring right back at him.

"Al? How are you? Does anything hurt?"

A tired smile was his response.

"I'm great…thanks to you."

Arthur pulled him closer, kissing the bandages that were wrapped around the man's head.

"I was… I was scared. You have no idea how scared I was. I hate that feeling more than I hate anything in the world, and I've felt it endlessly for the past four days."

"Sorry…"

"Stop apologizing! You've done nothing wrong!"

"…I did. I lied to you about…why I came here."

"That's not important right now. Nothing you can tell me will make it worth upsetting yourself over, and I really-"

"I killed my brother, Arthur."

The doctor froze, green eyes wide as they scanned Alfred's face. He seemed perfectly serious.

Was that possible?

"C-Come again?"

The sandy blonde gave a long, shuddery sigh, but continued to speak.

"I was in my father's office, talking about going to study art. Not here in Europe, but in the states. He wasn't pleased, but he probably saw the benefit of me leaving too, so he was going to let me go. And…since I'm first born, it was my job to inherit the railroad company, but…I was a failure…"

"Al…"

"Mattie was the one who had to deal with all of father's shit. He had to go to business meetings when he was ten years old… I watched him being molded into…something no one understood. But worst of all, he hated himself. I could see it in his eyes… He fucking hated himself, and it was my fault. It was my fault for being weak. For not having the resolve to take the place as the head of the company. I just wanted to paint my stupid fucking pictures."

"You can't help your likes and dislikes!"

"Listen, dammit! Mattie cornered me about my trip. Didn't want me to go. He was saying…saying such weird things. He started screaming at me, telling me it was all my fault he couldn't look himself in the mirror, and I mean, I knew that already, but man… Hearing it from him…it hurt so much…so much…"

Arthur brushed the sandy blonde hair with his fingers, silently offering comfort.

"I ran out. I ran, because it was too much to bear. How was I supposed to live with making my brother hate his life? I couldn't do it, I just couldn't. And he needed me, Arthur, he _needed _me. And I wasn't there…"

"How did you kill him?"

"…He chased me out. He was after me, I don't know why. There was a look on his face, this murderous look. It was…terrifying. I don't know why, he just attacked me. I don't know…if he was even himself by this point, or if he was someone else… All I know is, he wasn't the same brother I had grown up with… And I was scared."

"What happened?"

"He pointed a gun at me. It was my father's. He told me… He said I had to stay. He said I needed to be the one to take control, and I just stared down the barrel, not knowing what was going to happen, and I…

"Alfred…"

The younger man broke into sobs, but still refused to stop telling the story.

"His fingers were shaking, and I was scared he was going to shoot me. I mean, I didn't think he would really do it on purpose, but I thought he might do it on accident, so I tackled him. He shot a few rounds, but they all missed, and I …I wrestled the gun from him, but he kept fighting and _fighting_ and…and…"

"Stop. You're upsetting yourself too much. You need to rest."

"I held him down. I was only trying to stop him from doing something stupid, but he kept on, and the next thing I knew, he was…under me…and my hands were around his throat. I snapped his neck, Arthur. I killed my brother. I…I deserve so much worse than this…"

"He wasn't himself anymore, right? That kind of pressure can change someone… ou mustn't blame yourself. It was self-defense."

Alfred gave him a watery stare, still struggling to stop from falling apart.

"W-Why…are you so calm? I just told you I killed someone, and you're acting like it's nothing…"

"I'm a doctor, Al. I'm used to death. And these trying times, I've heard things…much worse. I guess you could say I've been around long enough where such things don't bother me."

Alfred flopped back on the pillows, hiding his face in his hands.

"I stole some money and ran here. I don't know if anyone there knows what happened. I didn't stick around long enough to find out. I just…I just ran… And I fooled myself into thinking I could start over… But maybe I can't. Maybe that's not what's supposed to happen…"

"The future is what you make it. I know that now."

Alfred wiped a few stray tears away, and then playfully punched Arthur's shoulder.

"You're so odd… I never know how you're going to react to things. It makes me feel like you have this huge history I don't know anything about… I can't believe you're not mad at me for lying to you… And I really can't believe you don't care that I'm a murderer…"

The doctor's face became grave, and for a second, the younger man felt afraid. That was the face of someone…unstable. But…Arthur was stable, right? He was so…mature and professional…

The flash of malice left as soon as it came, and was replaced by the usual indifferent stare the Brit wore.

"Tell me, Al. Wasn't it you who said you admire murderers?"

"I said that?"

"We were drunk, but yes, you said that. It's alright…to enjoy the darker side of life too. It's not just black and white. We're in a giant gray area, and not everyone can see it. Sometimes…the line of right and wrong can blur, and other times, it can disappear completely. I'm not one to judge on such matters. It would be frivolous of me to try."

"Arthur…?"

"But never mind that now. Tell me, love. Who did this to you?"

_[I know there's a big world out there, like the one I saw on the screen. In my living room late last night, it was almost too bright to see. I know that it's not a party if it happens every night. Pretending there's glamour and candelabra when you're drinking by candlelight. What does it take to get a drink in this place? What does it take, how long must I wait?]_

* * *

_Sachi: Dun dun duuuunnnn! Arthur is angry! You…won't like him…when he's angry._

_America: …_

_England: Huh?_

_Sachi: IGGY SMASH! BLEEEEEGGGGHHHH!_

_America: Hahaha! He's probably mad because he can't cook._

_England: *tackles*_

_Sachi: Review for love! I'm gonna just…sit here and…watch the show. _


	18. Chapter 18

_Guess who's totally happy she gets to sleep so late tomorrow! MEEEE! I had to wake up so early this morning, and be back at work this afternoon, then stay late. I'm pretty damn tired. At the same time, I was just hit with the biggest inspiration for this chapter, and when I get like this, I have to write it down, otherwise, I'll lose it forever! So without further ado, let's move on to your love! I have quite a lot to give!__ fiothepanda__, he's no teenager! He's twenty! Haha, you're forgiven for not reviewing sooner, as long as you promise to review from now on! __Singing Artist__, oooh, do you think he'll be even more bloodthirsty now? I love long reviews! __Elisabetta__, I'm Sicilian! But then again, I'm a huge mixture of many things, so who knows what all's in there. The dark side has cookies! :D __KurohimeHitsugaya__, PRUSSIA! YES! __AwesomeAviator__, right? That's how I feel when I write it. __luckycat222__, come sit by me! We can watch together, but if I get cold, I reserve the right to cuddle, even if it's against your will. Muahahaha! __Fynniona__, *cuddles back!* Revenge, huh?__ incidentalmusic__, hello, stranger! You've been gone too long! *kisskisskisskisskisskiss!* __ncalkins__, I'd love to see a Hulk Arthur. He'd kill everyone who insulted his cooking. So you know…everyone would die. __Rai Rai Blue__, man, that's a long review! You know you love my teasing! It makes people come back for more! I approve lists. I do! __Lilalfieluv__, I love you tooooo! Most days are bad, haha. It just depends on how you choose to make them better. __Quiet. Crash__, you sadist, you! __ninjaco0kieXD__, I'm glad you were so surprised! That's my favorite part of writing~. Now, let's get on with the story!_

* * *

_Passenger_

_(The Deftones, featuring Maynard James)_

_[Here I lay, still and breathless, just like always. Still, I want some more. Mirrors sideways, who cares what's behind? Just like always. Still your passenger. Chrome buttons, buckles and leather surfaces. These and other lucky witnesses. Now to calm me, this time won't you please… Drive faster, roll the windows down. This cool night air is curious. Let the whole world look in. Who cares? Who sees anything? I'm your passenger. I'm your passenger.]_

The man left the pub, feeling as victorious as ever. He wasn't quite sure why he felt such euphoria these days, but it was almost like nothing could deter his newfound sense of purpose.

Things had been rough for him, moving to a new place. Not everyone understood his odd personality, and more often than not, he got involved in spats he had no use for.

But the most recent of them, he had avenged.

Who the bloody _hell_ did that damn brat from across the sea think he was? He thought since he was such good friends with the city's beloved doctor, he could do whatever he wanted? Well, Jonathan Fischer didn't quite see it that way.

Then, Doctor Kirkland himself had provoked a fight with him. He was trying to protect the sexy barmaid? Why? What use was she to him? She was married, right? So why would the good doctor feel the need to protect her? No one else ever tried.

Besides, that whore wanted it. Every woman wants it. Some of them just need to be told is all. It's not like they're smart enough to make their own decisions. They were made to serve man, right? So they should all know when to submit.

The skirmish with Kirkland wasn't much to worry about. The man was either completely wasted, or entirely weak. He was down in one punch. No, it was what happened afterward that was so humiliating.

As soon as Kirkland flew back into the bar, effectively knocking a shelf down and sending glass everywhere, something blindsided Fischer.

And _hard._

He fell back, tumbling over a bar stool, and struggling to remain standing. As he held his cheek, he looked up into the fierce icy blue gaze of that twat from across the sea.

The little brat had the gall to punch him when he wasn't looking. Just like an American.

That's when things changed, however. Fischer himself had been a little tipsy, that was all. That's what he had told himself, at least. That was why the American was able to overpower him so easily.

Not that the little brat didn't have a few battle scars himself after their fight. Most of the bar was in shambles. Fischer had been in the floor, Baker and Franklin helping him up while trying to keep him conscious. He watched as the bastard picked up the doctor, and carried him out.

After that night, those two were always together. Folks were saying how great it was that Arthur Kirkland was finally opening up enough to have a friend, but it wasn't hard for Fischer to see what was happening.

Two men together was an abomination. And he wasn't one to turn a blind eye to such a thing. Not to mention, he had a score to settle with Jones.

That was why, a little over a month later, he caught the American going towards the good doctor's house, and he decided to intervene. What purpose would he have of going there?

Either way, Fischer would make sure he didn't reach his destination. Baker and Franklin were with him, of course. They almost always were, the little brainless assholes. They had agreed to help him teach Jones a lesson.

So they cornered the man, and Fischer felt great pleasure at the look of pure hatred the brat gave him. Not that the little cunt didn't put up a fight.

It took a brick to silence him.

After the initial hit in the skull that sent Jones crumpling to the ground, Baker and Franklin ran, saying things had gone too far, and they'd take no part of it.

Fischer, however, had a score to settle, and he beat the man repeatedly, knowing he didn't want the American waking up anymore.

By this point, it wasn't all about revenge. It was about the injustice served to the good doctor, and to the city itself, for having to shelter such a cur. It was about the injustice served to the great country when the filth of Jones's kind decided they didn't need help anymore, and rebelled.

It was the hatred many men have, over the fear of things they didn't understand.

And that was why he left the brat there, in a pool of his own blood, severely wishing death on him, but still too scared to end it all himself. He convinced himself it wasn't because he was scared of murder, but because the kid deserved to suffer.

And then, after four days, and no sight of Jones or Kirkland, he had assumed it was a job well done on his part. He had killed the American, and the only ones who knew were Baker and Franklin, and those kicked puppies wouldn't dare cross their master.

He was safe.

Maybe that was the reason Fischer no longer feared going out in public. It had been long enough no one would remember the humiliation he had suffered over a month ago by the hand of the American, and the city was still in a buzz over the Ripper killings.

Life was good. And since it was so good, he would drink, and live it fully.

After all, it could all end suddenly enough. Jones was proof of that.

He stumbled down the street, making his way toward his house. He was completely drunk, and equally satiated from the prostitute across the street from the pub. She had been in hiding, but since the Ripper had stopped killing, many of the whores of the night were coming back out to work.

Things were just getting better for him, since she offered him an amazing rate. Nothing could seem to dampen his spirits.

That's why, when he heard footsteps behind him, he felt no fear. He was a man, after all. And the Ripper only targeted women.

He just wanted to get home faster, that's all. That was the reason he sped up so much. He wanted to make it home. It's not like he was scared.

But then the footsteps behind him picked up too, matching his pace.

He stopped, and so did the steps. He turned, and saw no one.

If anyone was going to try and mug Jonathan Fischer, they were going to have to put up one hell of a fight.

When nothing happened, he decided it was just his imagination, and he started walking toward his house again. Hell, what was he scared for? He could fight off anyone daring to attack him.

Just to show he wasn't scared, he began to whistle a jolly tune.

Probably not the best idea, since it masked the sound of the now sprinting footsteps behind him.

Suddenly, a sickening crack was heard, bouncing off the buildings, and resonating with a satisfying thud on the pavement. Fischer was disoriented, trying to gather his thoughts, and figure out whom, or _what_ had struck him.

He managed to roll over on his back, and found himself staring up at a black figure. The face was obstructed from view by the shadows cast from a top hat. The only feature he could make out was the silver glint of a scalpel in one hand.

"W-Who…are you…?" Fischer gasped, willing himself to stand up and fight. Something wasn't right about this.

Without a word, the figure bent down, and with a flash of silver, Fischer felt tremendous pain on the back of his ankle, and then his legs stopped kicking.

His Achilles tendon had been slashed. He would never walk again.

"You fucker! YOU ASSHOLE! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Another slash of the scalpel, and Fischer found his shirt sliced open, revealing his chest.

"Oi, you bloody homo! Don't you dare touch me!"

"Don't worry about that. You're hardly my type," a dull, and eerily familiar voice replied. Then, Fischer felt as if he was being torn apart.

That was most likely because that's what was happening.

The scalpel moved down with such precision, suck skill, no stroke was wasted. Fischer screamed with terror, the sound hardly sounding human as it bounced off all the brick walls around them. He had never heard himself sound so pathetic. He never would again.

As a matter of fact, he wouldn't be seeing anything very soon.

He managed, in all his pain, to lift his head enough to see what was happening. The figure on top of him had sliced a vertical line down his chest, stretching all the way to his abdomen. Fischer screamed again at the sight, and his arms started flailing around helplessly when the figure's hands plunged inside of his entrails.

Agonizing pain, worse than anything he had ever felt. He had no way to defend himself. All he could do was wait, and pray his suffering would end soon.

A sickening crack met his ears, and to his horror, when his eyes opened again, all he saw was the hands, now covered in blood, removing bits and pieces of bone from his chest.

Rib bones.

This fucker was tearing him apart.

"Please… Please…" he begged, hating himself. The figure chuckled.

"PLEASE! KILL ME! KILL ME!"

More snapping, more pieces of bone being removed. Fischer howled with pain as the hands began prying his ribcage apart, revealing the exposed heart and lungs inside. He could see himself breathing, see his heart beating.

He tried to scream again, but instead a steady chain of vomit shot from his mouth, and landed in his own chest cavity, coating his own organs in his own filth. The figure on top if him scowled.

"You can't even die with honor, can you? You have to be disgusting."

Fischer couldn't talk anymore by this point. He simply waited for his heart to stop, and prayed to God he would be saved.

Please, please, please.

More snaps, but this time from different places. His heart was slowing down… It was almost the end…he was almost done…

Before his eyes closed for the final time, he saw quite clearly whom his attacker was, illuminated by the silver light of the waning moon as the man leaned over his face.

The startling emerald eyes of Doctor Arthur Kirkland were staring back at him, a sickly sweet smile spread across his face.

"Y-Yo…" Fischer croaked, eyes wide.

"Me."

He managed to keep his eyes open long enough to see his flesh all around him, his bones on the other side of his head, his intestines lying outside of his stomach, and those white hands pick up a blood covered brick that seemed…oddly familiar.

The mad laughter filled his ears, and the angry gaze of the once good doctor was the last thing Jonathan Fischer would ever see.

* * *

The oil light was fading again. Arthur had told him to sleep, but he couldn't seem to get his eyes to stay closed. He…craved the warmth of the Brit. He wanted to be held, needed to feel safe.

Some man he was.

Everything still hurt. Arthur had told him it would for some time, but he still wished his pain to stop.

Then again, he did deserve worse, after all.

Something was plaguing his mind. The fierce stare of the doctor before he had left. It was something Alfred had only seen him wear…before bad things were about to happen. He remembered how easily the older man had overpowered him the night they had had sex, wearing the same stare.

What was happening?

He…really didn't know…too much about Arthur, did he? He was in love with a stranger. Of course, what secrets could the man hold? Surely none worse than killing his own brother.

How he wished he could stand up. He wanted to find the Brit. He wanted to understand him. He wanted…to take anything the doctor needed to throw at him. He wanted to be the only thing Arthur could take his stress out on.

Malaise plagued him, making him toss and turn for what seemed like hours. He whimpered at his own feebleness, hating himself more with every pang of sharp electricity in his body. He wanted it to stop.

He heard the door open in the distance, and he held his arms out, crying quietly.

"Shhh, love, shhh. I'm here for you now," Arthur's soothing voice cooed, hands linking around his, and lips kissing his own. Alfred whimpered, and pulled the man into the sheets with him.

"Don't leave me anymore… Please..." he said pitifully, voicing the fear he had held since he realized he was in love with the Brit. He didn't want to be all alone with the guilt of murder. He didn't want to suffer alone. And God, these wounds were stinging every _fiber_ of his being.

Kisses were placed all over him, making him sigh contentedly as he was fawned over, a rare occurrence from the usually stoic man.

"I'm here, Al. I'm here for you."

"Thank you… Thank you…"

Arthur wrapped around him protectively, allowing the younger male to cling to him. He offered his body as support, and allowed himself to feel more empathy than he had in his entire life.

Alfred Jones was his entire world now.

"No one will ever hurt you again, my love. I promise."

Alfred, in his feverish state, decided then he didn't care about questions and answers anymore, as long as he was held.

As long as he was safe.

Still, he couldn't help but notice…the stench of iron…coming from…

Sleep claimed him before his thoughts could finish.

_[Drop these down and put them on me. Nice cool seats, there to cushion your knees. Now to calm me, take me around again. Just don't pull over this time. Would you please drive faster? Roll the windows down, this cool night air is curious. Let the whole world look in. Who cares who sees what tonight? Roll these misty windows down to catch my breath, and then go and go and go just drive me home and back again. Here I lay, just like always. Don't let me go. Take me to the edge.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: There, Fischer was massacred. What do you think will happen now? Will Alfred find out? Will Arthur tell him? Will I ever figure out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a fucking Tootsie Pop?!_

_ America: It's three._

_ England: It's only three if you bite it, git._

_ America: …_

_ Sachi: Yeah, Al. He wants you to…suck. Hehehehe._

_ America: Wait…_

_ Sachi: Review for love, and a quicker update! You know I like to spoil you!_


	19. Chapter 19

_Guess what it's time for~! That's right, yo! AN UPDATE! I know most of you were hoping for it to come soon, even if you never said so! (so many of you have sent me so much love!) You guys are such sadists! I believe the main consensus for the last chapter was, "Yay! Fischer is dead! Kill him again and again!" You guys love you some America! I'm glad you all liked it though~~. I'm currently sitting here watching an Ancient Aliens marathon. I'm like, in love with this show. Just trying to unwind from a stressful day. Well, stressful couple of months, to be honest. Today was pretty slow, and I'm glad it's almost over. Since I'm awake anyway, I think it's a good time to work on this particular story, because I have the ideas for it just like last time. But, man, I'm ahead of myself! Let's do first things first, as my manager says often, and get on with the love! (as I say often.) __Elisabetta__, haha, nice and lengthy review! I also think Arthur is super sexy, even when he's NOT mad. I enjoy the tsundere personality. So if you're weird, I'm weird. And since I'm weird, I guess you are too! __luckycat222__, I'm also a cat! Let's be cats together! You know, chase some laser pointers and what not. It could be fun! __Sesi Braginskaya__, I would too, dear. I would too. The ending was significant! It shows England's belief system is changing. __Quiet. Crash__, thank you! I do try to know how to massacre people. There will always be angst! __KurohimeHitsugaya__, FRANCIS WILL BE IN MY OTHER HETALIA FIC! Look it up~! __Singing Artist__, nah, it just means you like to read about the torture of others. I do love the lengthy reviews! And Al is adorable. I relate with him more than any other Hetalia character, and not just cause I'm American! I know how it feels to be young, and not taken seriously by those you want to have you taken seriously. It's hard, and it sucks. Then again, I'm not nearly as loud, unless I'm drunk. __Rai Rai Blue__, I did give everything you asked for! Now, was it on purpose~? Who knows! I owe you a long, drawn out response for talking to me in my toughest times so much, but I can't make it long enough to convey that. So thank you, really. It means the world to me, especially when you tell me I matter, because I don't feel like I do sometimes. I'll text you later~! __fiothepanda__, yes, he's twenty! Haha, silly! Massacre and fluff is an odd combination! __Fynniona__, *joins insane laughter* I love their relationship too! __Dark Contrast__, don't yell at me for my updates! Bully! I only try to please! DX Now, I never did the Tootsie Pop challenge. I always lose patience, haha. __The taco peasant__, awww, you made me feel so good! *loves* I've never had my work compared to My Little Pony, haha. That's news to me! You're smashing too, poppet! __AwesomeAviator__, he did indeed deserve it. I'm glad you like it! __PersonaNoir__, I laughed too! I do like detailed scenes. I guess I'm a true sadist, after all. __ninjaco0kieXD__, HUGS! More of them nowwww! Glad you liked it! Now, WOW, what a long AN, but not the longest I've ever done. For one of my other stories, I got over 1000 words just for the AN, but I also had about 33 reviews to respond to, haha. (It was a sad scene.) Without further ado, ON WITH THE (fucked up) STORY!_

* * *

_The Nurse Who Loved Me_

_(A Perfect Circle)_

_[Say hello to the rugs topography. It holds quite a lot of interest with your face down on it. Say hello to the shrinking in your head. You can't see it, but you'll know it's there, so don't neglect it. I'm taking her home with me, all dressed in white. She's got everything I need, pharmacy keys. She's fallen hard for me, I can see it in her eyes. She acts just like a nurse with all the other guys.]_

The next few days were full of pain, and extreme thirst for Alfred. He was feverish, extremely so, all due to the severity of his wounds. He was beaten with a bloody _brick_ for Christ's sake. It was a miracle the infections weren't worse, and an even more amazing miracle he managed to drag himself all the way to the doctor's house.

Alfred must have had some outstanding stamina. Not that it hadn't taken him a long time to get to his destination, Arthur remembered as he wiped the younger man's head with a wet cloth. He recalled the last logical conversation he had had with Alfred before the fever took over.

_"That jerk hit me with a brick, I think. I saw it fall to the ground afterwards, and he hit me with it a few more times, but after a couple of those hits, I stopped feeling it. I thought he was gonna kill me, but…he just left me there. All I could think about was you, and how you wouldn't know what had happened to me, and I couldn't take that. So, I guess it was an animalistic instinct or something. I just had to be near you. Next thing I knew, you were there."_

Arthur contemplated this again. Alfred had said he was first hit clear across the city. The Englishman wondered idly how much Fischer had known about the two of them. He had to have known the doctor would get involved if the American was hurt. The poor fool hadn't know just _how_ involved the man would be.

As soon as the name 'Fischer' was said by Alfred, that's all Arthur could think of. There was no other solution but to kill him. That was the last bit of retribution the bastard could attain, after all. He had nearly killed Alfred Jones, and that was unforgiveable. At least to the doctor, who had grown to love the little imbecile.

Yes, he loved him. He could admit that freely to himself, but probably never to the sandy blonde. It wasn't in his nature to say things so simply, and it never would be. He could spend his life _showing_ Alfred how he cared. He still didn't quite comprehend how their relationship had grown so much, and as quickly as it did.

At first, he had felt the need to protect the younger man. It wasn't so much that he thought it would lead to anything else. He simply didn't think the imbecile was capable of protecting himself. Then, he saw how strong Alfred was, and how stubborn. Even then, he couldn't bring himself to try and sever the closeness he felt toward the male. It was something he had never thought he was capable of feeling.

And then, that night he had taken the American, dry and forceful… It was the first time he had ever felt the need to stake claim on anything, or anyone. He had to _make_ Alfred his. He _needed_ it. And the damn brat wasn't resisting much, after all…

Still, he instantly regretted it after it happened. It wasn't so much he regretted _doing _it. No, he regretted the circumstances. Alfred was unknowingly sleeping with the Ripper. Worse still, the younger man thought the _world_ of Arthur. How could anyone think so highly of him? Putting him on such a pedestal was like asking him to fall, asking him to live up to an impossible standard he couldn't even begin to fathom. Yet every time he looked into that enchanting cerulean gaze, he found himself thinking, no, _hoping_, that he could live up to those standards.

He wanted to give Alfred what he had never been given himself. He wanted to give the younger man stability, make him realize his potential, let him know someone cared about him. Because Arthur knew far too well how it felt to have no one care. There was no worse feeling in the world than waking up, knowing no one would care if he didn't. He never had anyone to tell him they were proud of his accomplishments, or to tell him how happy they were to have made his acquaintance. Then along came Alfred Jones, a damn kid, who gave him all he'd ever wanted. He was finally given the recognition he had tried so hard to achieve, and he was getting it from a _kid_.

Fate had once seemed cruel, but now it just seemed to be telling one large joke, using Arthur as the punch line, of course.

The Brit chuckled to himself at the thought, and subconsciously smoothed the sandy blonde locks back. He tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling, and tried to think of his life without the man next to him. He couldn't do it. Not anymore. It seemed Alfred was going to be a permanent fixture in his life now, but he really wouldn't have it any other way.

Arthur's gaze moved back down to the man under the covers, who was starting to stir in his slumber. Slowly, hazy azure orbs opened to look up at the doctor, struggling to focus.

"A-Arthur?" he asked quietly, still blinking erratically to try and see.

"I'm here. Are you feeling any better?" the Englishman asked just as quietly. Maybe they would whisper forever to make up for all the shouting that had taken place before. That seemed like a possibility. Alfred nodded at the question, and scratched at the bandages on his head.

"Itches," he muttered feebly, still scratching.

"That only means it's healing," Arthur informed him, taking hold of the younger man's wrist to cease his motions. "Stop that, Al. You mustn't open that wound again."

Alfred whined, and shot him a glare with no real malice behind it, and then seemed utterly fascinated by the hand holding his wrist. Arthur watched as the sandy blonde took his hand, and admired it, slowly bringing the appendage to his mouth to kiss it gently.

"Al…"

"I'll stop if you come sleep beside me," the male said mischievously.

"I'm not making bargains with you. You're going to stop either way because it's bad for you, and because I said so."

Alfred gave him a pitiful look, still holding onto his hand with both of his own, and Arthur felt his resolve begin to disintegrate. He knew he wouldn't be able to win this argument, and he begrudgingly crawled beside the slightly taller man, and wrapped around him. He chuckled when Alfred nuzzled as close to him as he could.

"You're so spoiled," the doctor said, for once his voice obtaining no hidden barbs of sarcasm. The American blinked up at him.

"'M not spoiled," he argued.

"Oh really? You're not? I could've sworn you just tried to use those puppy eyes to have you way, but I might be mistaken."

"And I could've sworn it worked," Alfred grumbled.

"That it did, love. That it did."

The sandy blonde grew silent after that, his hands still rubbing circles into Arthur's arms. The Brit was beginning to contemplate a nap, when a knock sounded from the other room.

"Who in God's name could that be?" Arthur hissed, unwilling to stand up.

"Is it late?" Alfred asked innocently, not even knowing what time it was, since he had slept the past few days away.

"No, it's not late at all. It's a little past noon," the doctor replied, swinging his legs off the bed to head toward the door. "I'll be right back."

Alfred buried his face in the pillows, inhaling Arthur's scent while the man went in the other room. He loved being this close, cherished being able to see what the doctor saw, and hear what he heard. He had never had anyone look after him the way Arthur did. Granted, they got off to a rough start, and there were times Alfred thought the other man hated him, but they always seemed to work through it.

"Chelles? What are you doing here?"

"You've been holed up in here for days, and I had no way to contact you. There was another murder!" the woman's voice floated in the other room to Alfred, who listened intently.

"You came all the way here to tell me that?" Arthur asked flatly.

"You don't understand. It was a man this time. Jonathan Fischer. Did you know him? They found him cut to pieces, saying it fit the profile of a Ripper murder, but since it was a man, they can't credit the same killer. You walk around late all the time, and so does Alfred, so I wanted you to know!"

The Brit sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Thank you then. Was that all you needed?" he asked her coldly. She nodded, and then asked when he was coming back to work, same as every other time she had come over. He told her soon, if only to get her to leave faster.

He walked back into the bedroom, hoping for a nap with Alfred, but to his surprise, said man was sitting up, very much awake.

"Alfred! Lie back down, you twit! You're not well enough to even think of getting up!" Arthur chastised, rushing over to try and force the idiot into the covers.

"Fischer died? How did he die? Was it the Ripper? I only heard bits and pieces."

"You shouldn't have been listening at all. You have enough to worry about without thinking of being targeted by a killer," the Brit sighed, thankful Michelle hadn't given the timeline. All he needed was for the American to be suspicious of him. "You need to go back to sleep."

Alfred gazed up at him sadly, and then fell back into the pillows obligingly, deciding the older man was right, after all.

"Are you gonna stay here with me?" he asked the Brit looming over him.

"Of course."

And as Arthur crawled into bed beside him for the second time, and held him close, he couldn't help but feel there was something he didn't know. There was another side of things he wasn't seeing, but his feverish mind could only think so clearly.

He blamed it on the lack of his glasses, and decided he would see more clearly with them on. After a nap with Arthur, of course.

_[Say hello to all the apples on the ground. They were once in your eyes, but you sneezed them out while sleeping. Say hello to everything you've left behind, it's even more a part of your life now that you can't touch it. I'm taking her home with me, all dressed in white. She's got everything I need, some pills in a little cup. She's fallen hard for me, I can see it in her eyes. She acts just like a nurse with all the other guys.]_

* * *

_Sachi: Uh ohhhhh! We're nearing the end! _

_England: Ah, about time._

_America: Noooouuuuu!_

_Sachi: Yeah, but not to worry! You know I'll be around. I already have another story posted, and it's SUPPOSED to say Germany, Italy, America, and England, but I think it's only coming up as GerIta. UGH. It's going to be many of the characters, but the pairings are UKUS and GerIta. Stupid website._

_England: You really can't have a story without us._

_Sachi: I can't! You guys are my new obsession! DX_

_America: *hums Wa! Wa! World Ondo*_

_Sachi: Review for love! See you next time~_


	20. Chapter 20

_*glides in* Hello, dears! I had a very busy day! Well, actually a couple of busy days. I meant to update this last night, but I passed out like the dead for a few hours, finally. I was waiting on it. I don't think I've slept for weeks. We've been pretty swamped at my new job, but it's good for me to get the experience. Not to mention all the walking I have to do has already helped me drop a few pounds! (as has lack of eating.) Have any of you ever been so busy you forgot to eat? I've been doing it a lot lately, haha. I'm finally finding my niche at my new job, and it's nice to know where I'm going every day. And having so much time to walk around and stuff lets me think of new ideas for this story! Thus, here I am! Now, I'm either ending it next chapter, or the one after. I know it seems odd that I'd say that in the AN, but I really don't have a strategy for it yet, haha. Damn, just this much has taken me thirty minutes to write. I totally just got caught up looking at inappropriate things online. Anywho, I have some love to give! __luckycat222__, haha, I'd want to backhand her too. I've never heard my cat roar, but I like to imagine he probably could. Toki's cool like that. __Dark Contrast__, yes, it's almost time to end it, sadly. I forgive the yelling, but only if I can have some love! __ninjaco0kieXD__, will it end badly?! Who can say? I mean, I can say, but I'm not gonna. FLUFF! __Quiet. Crash__, I'm a little glad you're so anxious about it! That means you like it! __AwesomeAviator__, you don't have to wait! Here's the update! __Singing Artist__, of course I'll complete it! Why wouldn't I?! Ugh, we're alike in that matter. I'm more America than I'd like to admit. __fiothepanda__, the bloody bits are the best to write, I'll admit. I might…have a problem. __Rai Rai Blue,__ YES, YOU MAKE ME HAPPY, DEAREST! Haha, caps lock is a sure fire way to get attention. We could all use words of affirmation every now and then. The world is full of people who will treat you like garbage, but you'll find none of that from me. I'm here for all of you, my lovelies! I'm fairly good at giving advice, although I never follow my own. I wonder why that is? Enough of my rambles. On with the story!_

* * *

_Burn the Witch_

_(Queens of the Stone Age)_

_[Holding hands, skipping like a stone. On our way to see what we have done. The first to speak is the first to lie. The children cross their hearts and hope to die. Bite your tongue, swear to keep your mouth shut.]_

Alfred wandered through the large house aimlessly. Arthur had returned to work, and despite the American's protests that he was perfectly healthy, the doctor refused to hear him out. Alfred was supposed to be in bed, but he was tired of lying around. After all, he had been in that bed for over a week.

It had occurred to him he never actually got to explore the older man's house. Sure, he knew where all the rooms were, and he knew where to look for certain items if Arthur happened to ask for something, but there were drawers and drawers of things he had no idea about. At the very least, he might find something interesting in one of the huge medical journals to paint. It had been so long since he had gotten to paint anything.

He fumbled around in the cabinet of Arthur's chifferobe, trying to find anything he might fancy, when he stumbled across a jar of liquid shoved in the very back, haphazardly covered with a few handkerchiefs as if to hide it. Curious, he reached for it, trying to pull it forward, but found it blocked by a few more items. His brow furrowed in confusion. Arthur was so neat and tidy! Why was his chifferobe so crammed with various things?

Alfred tugged lightly on the jar, and heard a slight crack. He bit his lip, anxious that he might have broken something, and decided to stop prying. If he made the Englishman mad, he was afraid what might happen. Especially after how nice the man had been to him.

Sighing with boredom, he made his way to the bookshelf, and tugged a leather bound mammoth of a book from the tightly compacted wooden structure. He flipped through it, and grinned at the detailed picture of the brain he came across. It was one of the few organs he hadn't painted for the doctor yet. Carrying the book upstairs, he caught a glimpse of himself in the large mirror hanging from the hallway wall. He grimaced at what he saw.

His head was finally out of the bandages, and that particular wound was healing rather nicely, but the rest of his face looked as though it had been through a meat grinder. Both his eyes were blackened, but the swelling was going down at least. He had scratches on his face, and his bottom lip was scabbed over from being busted open. Is entire body resembled one big bruise, but it could have been much worse. Arthur had told him he died, briefly, mind you, but he had died nonetheless.

It was a concept Alfred had never considered before. Being as young as he was, he never spent much time thinking of something as far away as his own demise. The doctor hadn't given much insight on the subject either. When he asked about how he almost died, Arthur had told him to shut up, and hurriedly left the room, muttering about stupid questions and stupider gits. The American had stared after him blankly, not sure what to say.

He studied his reflection, noting how his usually clean hair was matted, and was sticking up worse than usual. Not to mention the bags under his eyes, despite the amount of sleep he was getting. He supposed a week of bed rest could do that to a person. He needed to bathe, lest Arthur decide he was disgusting.

First things first. He was going to finish this painting for the doctor. Alfred knew the older man would appreciate it, since it had been awhile. The sandy blonde was grateful he had left his paint supplies behind last time he had visited. It gave him something to do until Arthur got back.

Setting to work, he made himself busy, and lost himself in the perfection of his artwork. It was the one thing in his life he had always been proud of. Coming from a wealthy family, his mother was the one who had insisted he and Matthew become cultured. She had said it would broaden their horizons, in case they didn't _want _to inherit the railroad company their father owned. So for a few years in their young lives, they were exposed to music, art, and the finer things in life, until their father had had enough of it. Matthew had thoroughly enjoyed learning to play the piano, and he secretly kept doing it every now and then, but music was never Alfred's thing.

As soon as he dipped his fingers in paint the first time, he had been hooked on the feeling. He had been reprimanded by his mother for doing such a filthy thing, and was promptly taught the proper way to use a paintbrush. Matthew was having fun drawing stick figures and a sun with a smiley face, but Alfred had immediately begun to paint the room they were in. It wasn't at all detailed, and he wasn't sure how to properly mix paint, but his teacher had been thrilled nonetheless, saying he had an eye for still-life, and he needed to keep working at it.

So he did.

He remembered quite vividly when his father had caught him. A lengthy family argument had taken place afterwards, in which his father screamed, and his mother tried to voice reason. Matthew had stayed silent, his fingers idly strumming the table as if he were stroking piano keys, and once again, Alfred had felt that pang of guilt as his father begrudgingly decided he was of no use to the railroad company anyway, and he would be better off "painting his blasted pictures".

Matthew was left to be molded into the man he was when he was killed, by his own brother no less.

Alfred sighed as he blended the paint he would be using. He hated being reminded of his brother while he was trying to work. It always made him feel guilty.

_"I like how you view things, and I like how you portray them," _Arthur had said as he tried to convince the American to be an artist. The Englishman was the only one who had ever truly believed in his abilities, and that's why he had tried so hard to please the man. As the paint was mixed, he set back to work, and tried his best to focus on the task at hand. He didn't notice the time slipping away.

"Hmm… Well that's not the right shade, now is it?" Alfred mumbled to himself, using his elbow to wipe the sweat off his brow from hours of intense concentration. He turned to reach for more red paint when he noticed a shadow looming over his shoulder. The American jumped, frantically trying to remove himself from the path of whoever was behind him, before a hand clasped his shoulder.

"Easy there, poppet. I'm simply marveling at your ability," Arthur's deep voice said. Alfred turned to him, face lighting up as he grinned at the older man.

"Arthur! Man, I wanted to get this done before you got back! I figured, you know, you could hang it up in your office or something! I mean, if you wanted to. You don't have to or anything. You know, if you don't like it."

The Englishman chuckled as he leaned down, brushing the sandy blonde's hair away from his face.

"You're too cute sometimes, love. I'll like it, I assure you. I've been needing the brain, actually. It's not as though I can have a functioning office without one, and we all know you and Chelles lack that particular appendage."

"…Hey!"

Arthur laughed again, and then paused as he took a good look at the younger man.

"You need to wash off now that you're mobile. You look absolutely horrid."

"Gee, thanks."

"I don't mean to offend. I simply mean that I don't…don't like you looking that way."

There it was again. Alfred looked up at him in confusion. Lately, Arthur had been so…docile with him. Was it because the Brit still thought he needed to be treated like he was breakable while he healed? Or was it something else? He couldn't remember the last time the man had genuinely insulted him without immediately apologizing, or the last time the doctor had been as forceful as he usually was. It wasn't as if Alfred _wanted_ the man to go back to his old abusive ways, but this new caring version was just as off putting.

"What is it?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowed. "Does anything hurt?" Alfred shook his head, and turned back to look at his painting.

"I'm gonna finish this first for you, kay? Then I'll wash myself off."

Lips kissed the back of his head, and the American turned to watch Arthur leave the room, presumably to change clothes or get a drink. Something was wrong, but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. People didn't just change overnight.

He blended more paint, trying to create the right pinkish color, when he noticed the Brit return.

"Here you are. These may help you," his deep voice said as he held out a new pair of glasses for Alfred. The sandy blonde grinned hugely as he placed them on his nose.

"Thanks a bunch! This makes my third pair since London."

"Ah, I know. Perhaps things will calm down for a bit now," Arthur said, making himself comfortable in the armchair. He unfolded a newspaper, and would occasionally reach for his teacup. Alfred giggled to himself as he watched the usually stoic male's expression change as he read by the oil lamp.

The sandy blonde dragged his supplies over to the area, and settled at the Englishman's feet. Arthur cleared his throat, but never said anything against the sudden closeness of their proximity. He was most likely used to Alfred being in the floor while he painted.

The American began to fill in the pink hue to the brain, and his feet were swinging in the air as he giddily finished his work. Every now and then he would hear a page turn, or a clink of a teacup, and he felt…happy. More happy than he had ever felt in his life. He was with the man he respected and admired more than any other, and they were enjoying the silence together. Neither offered any pointless conversation, nor did they make unnecessary noises. Unbeknownst to Alfred, Arthur was enjoying the sound of the paintbrush scratching against the canvas, and the sounds of triumph the younger man would make when he thought something looked good.

This moment, this one single moment, defined their newfound status as a genuine couple. The Englishman felt comfortable enough to fold his paper back up and simply watch the American work. It was more entertaining anyway, since there was no further news on the "Ripper" murders.

"Finished!" Alfred sang as he sat up, showing the older man the finished picture. Arthur smiled and reached for it, but to the American's surprise, he set it in the floor.

"Come here, love," he called gently, motioning for the male. Alfred tilted his head in confusion, but stood nonetheless, and hovered over the seated Briton.

"You don't like it?" he asked sadly, a little disappointed at the lack of response on the painting. Arthur pulled him into his lap so his legs were on either side, and shook his head.

"Of course I like it, you bloody fool. I simply want to look at you."

Alfred wanted to curl into himself as those analyzing emerald eyes traveled over his face, soon joined by smooth white hands. He sighed contentedly as Arthur began to kiss his face, and then his neck, muttering sweet nothings all the way.

"You have no idea how good it feels to see you well again, my dear, dear idiot. No idea."

"I told you I'd be fine. It wasn't that bad anyway," Alfred grinned in his boyish way, earning an extremely icy glare from the Brit.

"It was very bad, Alfred. You have no idea how bad it was."

"Okay, okay, I know. Sorry…"

The green eyes softened again, and the older man resumed staring at the sandy blonde, who was shrinking under the gaze, a blush covering his features.

"No need to be sorry. There's also no need to look so nervous. I can't look at you?" Arthur smirked.

"S-Shut up. There's a difference between looking and…_staring_."

"Mmm, my filthy lad, I should ask you to take a bath now. I guarantee you'll feel better."

Alfred rolled his eyes, but obliged, and stalked from the room as he tried to ignore the chuckling from the Briton at his own expense.

Once left alone, Arthur stood from the chair, scowling at the beginnings of an erection. Seriously? Alfred hadn't even touched him!

_"Of course you're going to school, Arthur. Why go out and work to support us now when you can dawdle all day in school?"_

He froze, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up at the ghostly voice from the past. Not now. Not while Alfred was here. He had to fight it.

_"Yes, this is my client. He'll be staying the night, of course."_

"Whore. Filthy whore," he spat, grabbing at his hair, willing it to stop. But she only got louder, just like when she was alive.

_"I don't bloody well care what you think, now do I?! I've no choice but to work the streets until you find a job!"_

Always bringing it back on him, always finding a way to place her problems on him.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop…"

He tried to drown her out as best he could, but it was proving frivolous. He picked himself off the floor and went towards the chifferobe downstairs. The cabinet held all the belongings from the prostitutes he had killed before. Being around his trophies always made him feel more grounded, especially when his mother began ranting.

The severed ear was in a jar towards the back. He had it crammed around all the jewelry he had taken, as well as some brooches and bloody handkerchiefs. The jar was the main object he was trying to hide, after all. As long as it was crammed in such a hidden place, it shouldn't matter. It's not as though any suspicion had fallen on him anyway. His main concern was making sure Alfred didn't come across any of these things while roaming around.

The voice grew quieter, but was still prattling on and on. Arthur grit his teeth in frustration as he closed the cabinet, still willing her to shut up. Just once, please, could she shut up. No such luck, however.

"Arthur? You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Alfred said from behind him as he reentered the room. The blonde looked better, but still very worn down. The doctor turned to look at him fully.

"I'm fine, lad. Simply exhausted is all."

"Well, why don't you sleep? You have to get up early to go to work anyway. Can… Can I come too tomorrow? I promise I'm better!"

The Briton gave him a weary smile, shaking his head as though he couldn't believe how childish the man was being by asking _permission_ to follow him around.

"I must say, you've never been so obedient. I'm rather enjoying you asking me before you do anything reckless."

"It's only 'cause you're being so-!" Alfred stopped, and stared at his feet for a moment, as if he dreaded the current topic. Arthur frowned, and moved near him, brushing his fingers through the sandy locks.

"What's this now? Are you well?"

"Why… Why're you being so different now? You never used to be so touchy towards me. Is it only because I almost died?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it does!" Alfred said loudly, slapping the doctor's hand away. "I don't want you looking at me like some fragile little piece of porcelain! I'd rather you smack me around like you used to, if you're only being nice because of-!"

"I'm being nicer because it's the right thing to do," Arthur interrupted, still looking entirely calm. "I was behaving very immaturely, because I didn't want to admit that I…cared for you. Since it's behind us now, I'd rather discuss something else, if you don't mind."

Alfred still gave him a hard stare behind his new glasses, but didn't respond. Finally, he sighed, and ran a hand through his wet hair.

"I just wish you'd tell me things before you decided on your own," he muttered. "I told you everything about me, and yet I don't know anything about you. I don't think it's fair."

"You couldn't handle knowing anything else about me," Arthur said quietly, his voice hiding an edge behind it. "I told you to drop it."

"I told you I don't want to."

They stared at each other, neither moving from where they stood. Alfred was the first to lower his defensive stance, and try another method.

"Tell me what's bothering you. I swear I'll listen, and I won't judge. I'll only listen."

"You can't possibly promise such a thing, you silly fool. You've no idea what I might say."

"No, I don't… But you'll still be Arthur either way, right?"

Another lengthy silence, but this one was beyond uncomfortable. The doctor was giving him a pleading look, but what he was pleading for, Alfred didn't know. The American simply waited for an answer, scared to push the man any more than he already had. Finally, Arthur opened his mouth, but what he said was the last thing the sandy blonde expected.

"I killed Fischer."

_[Ask yourself "will I burn in Hell?" Then write it down, and cast it in the well. There they are, The mob, it cries for blood. To twist and tale into firewood. Fan the flames with a little lie. Then turn your cheek, until the fire dies. The skin, it peels. Like the truth, away. What it was, I will never say... Bite your tongue, swear to keep… Keep your mouth shut. Make up something, make up something good... Holding hands, skipping like a stone. Burn the witch, burn to ash and bone.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: NEARING THE END! Graaaahhhhh!_

_ America: Cliffhangers! Why is it always cliffhangers?!_

_ Sachi: Well, uh, I actually have a reason this time…_

_ England: Aren't excuses pointless?_

_ Sachi: *twiddles thumbs* I was keeping my mom company while she got ready for work, and now it's really late here, and I just wanna cuddle Toki before work tomorrow! DX_

_ America: …I think that's a good reason._

_ England: Hmph._

_ Sachi: Review for love! This was a long update, you must admit! We have about…two chapters left. Don't quote me though! We'll see. Till next time, my lovelies!_


	21. Chapter 21

_I've got a mouthful of chocolate cupcakes and Coke! MURICA! I'm pretty fucking beat, for real. I was slow at work, and I know that sounds nice to have down time, but no. It basically means for about eight hours, I literally sat around on my phone, trying to keep myself entertained. I'm pretty easily amused, but even I was out of ideas in my sixth hour, so the rest was spent wandering around, pretending the hotel was haunted, and I was the last line of defense for humanity. (You know, the usual.) I'm glad no one ever catches me playing adventurer. Everyone I work with already thinks of me as an enigma, but I don't think it's the grandiose mysterious kind. More like they don't know whether or not I'm legally insane. Well, they can join the club! I'm sure some of my friends and exes would love to jump on that bandwagon, haha. I hope everyone has been well since we last met! I know I left you with a rather steep cliffhanger, but I knew you'd be strong. I HAD FAITH! And if you don't buy that, I was lazy. So there. Haha, you all reviewed nicely again! I've noticed many new names popping up on my feed lately, and it makes me so happyyyyy! It's been so LONG since I've been excited about a story, and this one is just riddled with it. But! We must get on to your love before I prattle on too much! Quiet. Crash, you shouldn't worry about Arthur! He'll be safe and sound in his crazy brain. Cliffhangers are super fun. My sadistic side gets a kick every time! Fynniona, you know there will be more stories from me! As long as I have ideas, I will update! Sesi Braginskaya, haha, I've never been to Alaska, but I'd like to visit! I'm in Alabama, so it's been in the seventies here. Loca, I LOVE WHEN YOU REVIEWWWWWW! Thank you! I love being called great! fiothepanda, hope you stay excited! It was a rather steep cliffhanger, wasn't it? luckycat222, thank you! Don't make those grabby hands at me! It makes me sad I only have one update to give! Dolly-Doll-Face, I love any review, my dear, so I thank you. I shall try and make you proud. Dark Contrast, I could ALWAYS use MORE love! Y-You think I'm a great writer?! *sobs* Rai Rai Blue, we've already discussed your review, haha. Yes, Arthur told him. It made more sense to me. You will read more of my stories when I'm done with this one, of course! The Lost Hetalian, OKAY! I will try! KnightByDesign, yes, cliffhangers! :D SenNoYoruWoKoeta, oh, wow, your review made me so big headed and happy! I'm so happy you like the killing scenes, as well as everything else. I love writing the two, and I feel Arthur is often misrepresented as a character. Thank you for understanding the mush that is my brain! I shall never stop writing! CyberAngelo8, ah, you brought up the point I was preparing for! __**EXPLANATION!**__ We all know Arthur is tsundere as HELL. In the series itself, he tries to keep secrets, but only ends up coming up with methods in which you have to ask him what it is. Haha, I love that about him. But anyway! In tribute to the actual series, America is far too stupid to figure something like that out, at least in the time limit I'm working with. Also notice that Arthur didn't admit to everything, he only said he killed Fischer. Okay now, my dears, it's time for the second to last chapter of this little story! ON WITH IT THEN!_

* * *

_Canvas_

_(Imogen Heap)_

_[Slow hard, dog, wait, down love, black canvas. Revolve within, you understand. Fragile Earth where cracks in the temperature. Keep it cool to give, you understand. Keep it cool to give, you understand. Slow hard, dog, wait, down love, black canvas, revolve within, you understand. Fragile Earth where cracks in the temperature. Keep it cool to give, you understand.]_

The night was still, and all residents of the usually crowded city were either in bed, or in the pubs. No one was roaming about. Well, _almost_ no one.

Two sets of footsteps were steadily picking up speed, echoing off the walls of the brick buildings. The street signs were barely visible in the darkness, but luckily for the pair, at least one of them knew where they were going. The shadows came together for a moment as the more experienced reached back and grabbed the hand of the lesser, followed by brief words of affirmation. There was a slight glint from one of the shadows, possibly from the lenses of glasses.

They turned down a pathway with a proud sign that read _Dorset Street_. Both of the shadows were walking away from any lights from the windows as they approached their target.

"Are you sure about this?" one of them asked, his voice a little high pitched as if from fear.

"Positive. I've seen them out here before," the other replied, his voice deep and calm.

Sure enough, a figure emerged from down the way. There was a rustle from skirts, and a slight clicking from heels. The figure was quite slim, and leaned against a building as if waiting for someone. The shadows both moved toward her, eager to be her first takers.

"Good evening, Miss. Are you not out rather late?" A male voice asked. She looked up to see a startling pair of green eyes looking back at her, shadowed by large black eyebrows. The man was rather handsome, and she considered herself lucky to have such a fortunate first for the evening.

"Ah, yes I am, sir. I'm waiting for the first _fare_, if you understand the vernacular," she replied. She blinked as her attention was drawn to another form behind the handsome man, and she was met with large blue eyes covered by glasses, settled on an adorably round face. The younger of the two appeared to be clinging to the cloak of the older. "Is he…?" she began.

"This is my friend," the green eyed man said. "He will be joining in, if that's alright with you."

"It is…rather unusual…" she laughed. The blue eyed man was staring at his feet, and then awkwardly up at her. She took each of their hands, and led them into her lodgings, which read _13 Miller's Court._

"Arthur, she's really young," the blue eyed man whispered, though the prostitute wasn't listening anyway.

"Shush, poppet," was the reply.

Once inside, they were greeted with a very small living space, occupied only by a twin sized bed, and a tiny table off to the side. The woman moved toward the bed, and began to take off her shawl, placing it slowly on the floor. The blue eyed man was still clinging to the other, who was looking at her with interest.

"Are you two brothers?" she asked them.

"Not at all," the older said. "He is simply a treasure to me, and asked to tag along. I was as surprised as you seem to be, but I dare not deny Alfred what he asks for."

"Your name is Alfred?" the woman asked, moving toward the pair. "Why do you seem so unwell, dear?"

"I-I was just… I mean, I… Um… What's your name?" Alfred squeaked, falling even more behind the older man, who only chuckled with amusement.

"You may call me Mary Jane, though I don't normally make it habit to give my clients my name," the woman laughed, ruffling the sandy blonde locks. She turned to unbutton her dress, and the older man turned to Alfred.

"Don't be so nervous, my love. Do you want to leave?"

"N-No. I mean, I want to… I want to be with you."

Smiling fondly, the green eyes man kissed his forehead, once again promising it would all be alright. It was insane to him, where they were, and what they were about to do. He didn't understand what had led to this point, but it was true what he said. He wouldn't deny Alfred what he asked for.

* * *

"You…killed Fischer…?" the American asked, completely dumbfounded. Arthur merely nodded, waiting for the inevitable questions he knew would come.

Honestly, he didn't know why he told. He simply didn't wantto wait to be exposed. Perhaps if he told, there would be a small amount of trust built between the two of them, and Alfred would know, yes, he wasn't stable, but he wasn't a liar. And he would never do _anything_ to hurt the younger man. Yes, that's what he was hoping for, even if it was ludicrous and impossible. Wasn't he allowed to wish for such happiness? After all, he had believed in crazier concepts.

"But that's… Are you also…Jack the Ripper?"

"I will admit to being the Ripper, but I'm hardly a Jack," the doctor whispered, trying however he could to lighten the dreary mood. The two men stared at each other, and Arthur waited for the words he feared most from Alfred. He would be called a monster. He would find himself alone and hated, and Alfred would never look back. Honestly, he wouldn't be able to blame him. Still, there was silence, and it was becoming unbearable.

"I never would've guessed that…"

"Alfred, I-"

"Did I tell you," the sandy blonde interrupted, "how it wasn't the act of murder that terrified me?"

"…Pardon?"

"No, see, it wasn't that I killed him. Yes, I killed my brother with my bare hands, but what scared me was…how much it _didn't _scare me, you know? It should have terrified me, make me scared of my own strength, but it didn't. All I can think about is how it felt…to have someone's life slip through my fingers…"

"Alfred…"

"And if I was truly regretful," Alfred continued, wiping furiously at his eyes as he started to cry, "I would've stayed. I would've gone to prison for my actions, and I would've taken responsibility. But I didn't! I ran here with you. Do you think things happen for a reason, Arthur?"

The doctor stepped forward, crossing the room with a few steps, not liking seeing the American so fragile. He threw his arms around the younger man, and ran his fingers through the still wet locks.

"Are you talking about fate?" he asked.

"Something like that, I guess…" Alfred mumbled, his voice still breaking. "Why do you think I'm here with you, if not to find out you're the Ripper? What if I'm…supposed to help you?"

"There is no helping me, love. I am much too far gone, but if there was to be anyone who _could_ help me, believe me, it would be you."

"You misunderstand," the American said quietly. "It's been a long while since the Ripper killed last, has it not?"

Arthur nodded, his hands still wiping the moisture from Alfred's face, but it was proving to be a losing battle.

"Take me with you."

The doctor stepped back, almost as if struck in the face. He looked at Alfred, hoping to see a joking smile, but was met with seriousness he was not used to seeing from the usually happy man.

"That is not wise, Alfred."

"I want to see it. I…dammit, Arthur, don't make me beg you! I told you the truth that night, I do admire killers, more so than I would like to admit. I don't remember telling you that, but it's true. And I… I wanted to meet the Ripper since I heard about him. I apologize, but it was me who named you Jack."

"You wrote…"

"I only wrote the first letter. I don't know who wrote the other ones, but I'm guessing they just wanted to take credit for your work. I only wanted to draw you out so I could meet you. I…didn't have a plan or anything like that. You know I don't plan ahead. I only…wanted to meet you."

Arthur caressed his face, moving forward to kiss the remainder of the tears away.

"Shhh, now. Stop this crying. I'll give you anything you want."

"You'll let me come?"

"Against my better judgment. I do not understand this fascination of yours with murder, but I am also not one to talk. Who did you wish to…take care of? Baker and Franklin?"

"No. I don't have a grudge against them. I know they left me there and all, but I really don't care about that now since Fischer is dead. Oh, Arthur, how did you kill him? Was it really for me?"

"I pulled him apart, and of course it was for you. It was all for you."

"You crazy fool," Alfred said, hugging him close. "I can't tell if you're romantic or bloodthirsty."

"Are they not pulled from the same cloth?'

"Take me with you," the American said again. "Let us both be romantic."

* * *

So here they were, facing Mary Jane, who was a hair's width away from exposing her breasts. Arthur stood back and waited, knowing Alfred wanted to take the lead this time, but the younger man appeared to be frozen, his eyes focused on the floor. The doctor nudged him slightly, but to no avail. He decided on a different approach.

"I suppose I'll go first," he announced, taking a step toward the woman. He placed his hands over hers, and helped unbutton the remaining barrier between her bare skin and the chilled night air. Mary Jane gasped hungrily as his hands roamed over her body, and a distinct growl was heard from the corner of the room.

"Arthur," the sandy blonde hissed.

"You'll have your turn, love. Just tell me when."

"Your name is Arthur? It suits you well, sir," the whore commented, falling back toward the bed.

"I thank you. I am named from my father, and my father's father. If I were to have a son, his name should also be Arthur."

_"Arthur!"_

"I told you to hush."

He straddled Mary Jane, who had long since had her legs spread. Alfred's breathing picked up from his corner as he waited for the fatal strike, but it wasn't coming. Arthur simply roamed his mouth to her neck, and began kissing behind her ear, causing her toes to curl as she clawed at his back. Suddenly, he stopped as he felt a larger hand on his shoulder.

"Ah, so you've decided your turn is now?" he chuckled, turning his head to see the icy glare from Alfred.

"My turn was first."

"But you never acted. Hesitation leads to being caught, love. You must be precise."

"Pardon me, but are we all three going at once?" Mary Jane asked quietly, taking notice that Arthur's hands were still situated at her breasts. Alfred seemed to notice this too.

"You shut the hell up," he hissed at her, yanking the pillow from under her head to place it over her face instead. She began flailing her legs, seeming to realize her impending doom, but Arthur held her down as Alfred began punching the pillow to help stun her.

"You've lost your temper," the Brit chuckled. The sandy blonde shot him an irritated glance.

"You knew I would."

"Yes. Yes, I did. Sometimes that's what it takes."

Mary Jane seemed to be trying to scream, a rather idiotic idea on her part, seeing as how her oxygen was already low. No sound emerged, and soon enough, her legs stopped kicking. Arthur chuckled at the breathless gasp Alfred emitted, mixed with the unmistakable moan of pleasure.

"Intoxicating, isn't it?" the doctor asked, pulling the younger man back to rest on his lap so they were both on top of the deceased. "I know you're enjoying this. I can feel it."

"What part should I enjoy? The part where you were all over her?"

"How about the part where you killed her?"

Arthur reached in his pocket and pulled out his scalpel. Alfred turned to observe it, and reached for it, but the older man held it out of his reach. Instead, he grabbed the sandy blonde's hand, and placed the scalpel carefully in his grasp, then used his own hand to guide. With his free hand, he removed the pillow, and they were both met with the lifeless stare of Mary Jane, who seemed to have breathed her last while screaming, the ghost of which was etched into her face.

"We'll cut here," Arthur whispered, applying force to their hands as the scalpel crossed her neck. "I don't think she's quite dead yet, but she will be soon enough."

"Do it…"

Force was applied to the instrument, and the scalpel plunged inside her neck, severing the carotid artery, and causing a steady stream of blood to spurt onto the wall, mattress, headboard, and their hands. Alfred gasped again at the warmth from the blood, and Arthur chuckled as he kissed the sandy blonde locks.

"This kill is yours, poppet. What do you want to do first?" he asked as he released the younger man's hand. To his surprise, the American stabbed the scalpel into her breasts, and steadily cut around them, removing them from her body. Arthur watched interestedly, not saying anything. He only observed as inexperienced hands continued to mutilate the woman's body.

"You didn't have to touch her there," Alfred informed him. "Of course it would make me mad for you to do that. Is that what you wanted?"

"Yes and no. You said you wanted to kill her, but you were struggling, and based on your temper, I knew you would act if provoked."

"How observant of you."

"Indeed."

Arthur reached for the scalpel, and plunged it into her abdomen, laughing at the look of disgust the American gave him.

"You just cut off her breasts and you're looking at me like I'm the disgusting one," he said, laughing more when Alfred bristled. "Give me your hands, lad. I want you to feel what I did to Fischer."

Setting the scalpel on the bed covers, he took both of the sandy blonde's hands in his own, and delved them into the incision he made, stretching from her chest to her pelvis. Carefully, he held onto Alfred's wrists as the younger man felt around, memorizing every curve of her insides.

"That's how it feels to have someone die by your hands," Arthur whispered into his ear, his lips brushing against the lobe, causing the American to shiver. "In this moment, in this very instant, you are her god."

"G-God?"

"Mmm, yes. You are her savior, Alfred. Saving her from a life of prostitution and despair. This was truly what was best for her."

"That's not why I did it."

"I know that."

Arthur began kissing down his neck, helping Alfred remove her intestines, and place them beside the body.

"I told you I'd teach you all about anatomy," he continued. "Can you tell me where her kidneys are?"

"Aren't they at the lower back?"

"Remove them."

He sat back and let the younger man do all the work, and he settled on giving helpful pointers every now and then, such as, "No, not there. Cut a little to the right. It will not bleed as much."

Soon after, the body was completely removed of the organs in the abdomen, and Arthur found great humor in where Alfred chose to place them. The uterus and kidneys rested with one breast under her head, the other breast was by her feet, and the spleen rested in between. The sandy blonde even went as far as to shave pieces from her thighs and place them on the bedside table, and then continued to hack away at her face.

"Easy, love. I'd say you've done enough to her, wouldn't you?"

Alfred turned to him, an odd look of complacency on his face.

"Does this make me a monster, Arthur?" he asked, his voice level, but sounding ready to waver.

"No, Alfred. I've met many monsters in my day, and you are far from it. You are simply unfortunate enough to have crossed paths with a true monster, and get caught in the whirlwind of excitement that is this lifestyle. There is nothing to fret about, you are still perfect."

"I'm far from perfect," Alfred grinned, his eyes watering slightly. "I just hacked this woman to pieces because I was jealous."

"No. You would have done so anyway. It is what you came here to do, and I've never met an American who did not follow through."

Alfred sighed deeply, throwing his head back as he took deep breaths, before he turned back to Arthur, who pulled his head against his chest.

"You wanna know what's funny?" the younger man asked wistfully. "I don't even regret it. I…liked it. I see why you did it so often."

"I am quite surprised by you, poppet. Even more so than usual. I thought you would merely slit her throat and be done with it, but you were truly cold-blooded and cruel. I don't believe you have ever been more stunning to me than you are right now."

"And what're you gonna do about it?" Alfred asked playfully, leaning his head back to kiss Arthur's chin.

"Are you suggesting I have sex with you in the company of this dead prostitute?" the doctor asked, thoroughly amused.

"No. I am suggesting you make love to me in her company. What better way to feel alive than to stare death in the face while I am being made love to? I see no better way. It's almost like this was destined to happen."

"There you go again with fate," Arthur whispered, already undoing the younger man's trousers. "Do you really believe this was all destined to pass?"

Alfred moaned hungrily as the older man's hands made contact with his throbbing arousal and began to stroke.

"Y-Yes, I do… I believe I was destined to be with you."

"That, I cannot argue with, my dearest love. The fact we are about to make something beautiful in the company of something so ugly is a true insight to your innovative mind. You never cease to amaze me."

"God, Arthur… Stop _teasing _me. I'll die before I climax at this rate."

"Oh, hush. When have I ever denied you of your release? You act like a spoiled child."

"You love me anyway."

Arthur merely smirked at him, moving his fingers to the man's entrance, and rimming accordingly.

"You might be onto something there too."

_[Hijacked, lost track, light fades another day left, long shadows lure you in. The more you look, the less you see, so close your eyes, and start to breathe. Oh, you said yourself this wasn't easy. Oh, you said yourself this wasn't easy. Oh, I just can't find the strength to pull you up, and keep you taut. No, I just can't find the strength to hold you up and keep you taut. 'Cause I just can't find the strength. Oh, to keep you taut.]_

* * *

_ Sachi: Goddamn, I am so fucked up. I truly enjoyed every minute of this chapter. Does that make me crazy? You know what, no, don't answer that. GOD, IT JUST HURTS SO GOOD!_

_ America: *shivers* I don't even know how we got to this point._

_ England: Ah, I didn't see that one coming. _

_ Sachi: I had intended from the beginning for Alfred to join in the killing, but it transitioned much smoother than I had planned. I felt the whole, "Oh God, I enjoy killing and I suck" landmark might have been reached before his arrival to England, or at least shortly after, and we are more toward the point all killers get to in which they don't care about the act itself, as long as it can provide release._

_ America: You…know a lot about killers. Did you want to admit to anything?_

_ Sachi: Of course not! Haha, I'm not THAT crazy! Now, my lovelies, review for love! Next chapter shall be the last, so join me, won't you? Till we meet again!_


	22. Chapter 22

_*dramatic entrance* Guess what it's time for! Did you guess Adventure Time? Because it's not time for that, crazy people. Not till Monday… ANYWAY! It's time to end this crazy story! I've sort of been off and on this site… I've been spending a LOT of time on Youtube. Doing what, you ask? …Watching pewdiepie…and Smosh…and drama CDs… *cough* But in my defense, I'm tired when I get home, you know?! I just now finished my Beta work, and the chapter was only 3,000 words! It took me a month! DX (SO sorry about that again, Burning-Petals!) I'm so tired I can't have a life, not that I volunteer for one anyway. I've been telling this guy we'll go out as soon as I'm not tired, but that's not ever gonna happen! I'm a pretty horrible person, haha. The good thing is, my free time at work allows me to get a lot of reading done! I just finished an AMAZING Chuck Palahniuk book, and read some amazing stories in this archive! Also, I have a ton of new story ideas! Let's see…what else is new… Oh, I got my hair cut short! Not really short, but above my shoulders. I really like it! I felt it was time for a change, you know? This year (not 2013 by itself, I mean starting EXACTLY this time last year) has been an emotional nightmare, ugh. I've been stomped on more times than I can tell you! But, as to why I'm telling you this, it's because you all make my day brighter! No, really, you do! So take some love! __ClosetSkeleton__, yay, I like blowing minds! __Sesi Braginskaya__, Kuroshitsuji? I've heard you guys mention it, but I've not seen it. And yes, Arthur is a different being when he kills! __Elisabetta__, yes, it is Mary Jane Kelly! I'll explain all that at the end. I'm glad you enjoyed it! __KnightByDesign__, it's good to know you're excited! Don't be sad! __Dolly-Doll-Face__, queasy is a good feeling when it's not physically making you ill! I'd classify Arthur as a sociopath, and Alfred as an emerging psychopath. Good thing he has Arthur to help him stay in line! …Or maybe not a good thing. __SenNoYoruWoKoete__, no one is COMPLETELY on their rocker. I've been off mine for years. So glad you like it! I'm fucked up, but you like it, so that means you're fucked up too! :D __Rai Rai Blue__, ah, I don't like James Patterson… I don't know, just always thought his writing was too…simplistic. If you want a great murderer read, pick up the original Hannibal Lector stories by Thomas Harris! I'd say climax. __CyberAngelo8__, awww, poor Mattie… He shall live in other stories! __luckycat222__, so glad you like it! Sorry the update took a while! __Quiet. Crash__, it's not bad at all, love! __darkestlight96__, you like my music taste? Awwww, yay! *hugs!* I was wondering if anyone bothered to listen to the soundtracks! __Anacy Bleeu__, it has to end! All things do! __fiothepanda__, haha, look up the Casebook. It has all the facts on the Ripper. Glad you like it! __Vatimiss__, I will look it up! And THANK you! __ninjaco0kieXD__, that would need QUITE the shower. Can you imagine the blood in…areas? Blegh. __Taco Peasant__, thank you for being YOU! I love spazzy reviews! And thank you so much for reading! Now, here is the final chapter of __Devour__. I thank you all for sticking with me, for I admire loyalty above everything else. On with the end!_

* * *

_Ocean Breathes Salty_

_(Modest Mouse)_

_[Your body may be gone, I'm gonna carry you in, in my head, in my heart, in my soul. And maybe we'll get lucky, and we'll both live again. Well I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. Don't think so. Well that is that, and this is this. You tell me what you want, and I'll tell you what you get. You get away from me. You get away from me. Collected my belongings, and I left the jail. Well thanks for the time, I needed to think a spell. I had to think awhile. I had to think awhile. The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in? In your head, in your mouth, in your soul. And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both grow old. Well I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I hope so.]_

"Are you certain you want to take all of this stuff?"

Arthur looked up from his tea to observe the American looming over him. He set his cup on the plate with a small clinking noise, and motioned for the man to come closer.

"Certain of what now, love?" he asked as he pulled Alfred into his lap.

"My, my, you're awfully calm today, aren't you?" Alfred grinned as he relaxed into the embrace. "Are you getting excited?"

"But of course," Arthur said easily, tracing the now faded bruises on the younger man's face. "I've never left this dreadful place before. I daresay I'm close to being giddy about the concept."

They were busy packing, but were now taking a break. Alfred couldn't help but laugh at the fact that almost everything the British man owned was now crammed into cases, and shoved into as many bags as he could find.

"You're not designed for travel, are you?" he laughed easily, earning a pinch on his thigh. "Ow! Hey! Take a joke!"

"Of _course_ I'm not designed for travel. I've never traveled before."

"Well," Alfred trailed off for a moment as he stared at all of their packed belongings, "we're not really traveling, are we? More like…on the run."

"Do not think of it that way. I told you, there is no one who even suspects us a little. However, the longer we stay here, the more likely that will become the case…and…"

"And?"

"It will be nice…seeing new things."

Alfred kissed his forehead, and hurriedly scrambled off the armchair.

"Crap! I forgot my canvases!" he yelled, heading for the bedroom. Arthur watched him fondly, and then picked up his empty teacup. He scowled at it. Was there anything worse than being out of tea? Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes as he thought of their current situation.

Yes, in a sense, Alfred was right. They _were_ running, but not because they were being pursued. Mainly, it was Arthur who was running. He had long since realized he would never be happy as long as he stayed where he was. It was almost like his life was a book, and he was listening to it being read to him by someone else, but he was at the rising action in the middle, and the person reading had dog-eared it, forever dooming him to stay in the same point of suspended immortalization. Then, Alfred came along.

After the murder of Mary Jane, the press had accredited it to the Ripper, but hadn't assumed there might have been more than one killer. No sooner had he and Alfred cleaned themselves up and fled the scene did someone happen by to shine a light in the window and discover the body. Arthur had to say, he had _never_ expected Alfred capable of such hateful violence. Yes, the youth had sent Fischer flying in his defense, but the American had been so…cruel, almost heartless even. It was strangely arousing to say the least.

He had known Alfred harbored a secret from the beginning, but hadn't suspected just how much malice was hidden behind the angelic face. He now viewed Alfred as…dangerously twisted, much like himself, but perhaps a little more unhinged. The sandy blonde was bloodthirsty once provoked, but innocent when left alone. Needless to say, Arthur counted himself lucky to be on the man's good side, and vice versa. Truly, they were a hazard to everyone except each other.

"Here, spacey," Alfred's voice cut in, snapping him out of his stupor. He looked up to see the man hand him another hot cup of tea, blue eyes wide and searching for praise.

"Did you make this?" Arthur asked, taking it gingerly.

"Yeah! I've seen you make it a hundred times! Just try it!"

Still skeptical, the Englishman did just that, and grimaced at the watered down taste.

"You didn't let it steep long enough."

"Oh… My bad."

"With that being said, if you had left it in another minute or so, it would have been perfect. If you can make a decent cup of tea, I have reason to keep you, so keep working on it," the doctor winked at him, continuing to sip the hot beverage. Alfred rolled his eyes, but looked pleased nonetheless as he settled at the older man's feet and looked up at him.

"Are we leaving soon?" he asked as his head nuzzled Arthur's knee. "Did you already tell Michelle?"

"Of course. She has no clue we are moving so far away, but she has her share of the money from selling the office. Not to mention you sold most of your anatomy paintings... You and I are going to have more money than we know what to do with, my love."

"We get to travel around even when we get where we're going, right? I wanna see everything with you! It'll be an adventure!"

"Yes, yes, we'll do anything you want to, Alfred. _After_ we board our ship, which we never will at this rate. You have an hour to get all of your rubbish together."

As if just reminded of that little fact, Alfred stood hurriedly, and scrambled to pack more of his things in the same cases he had when he arrived.

"You know," he said quietly, "I'm gonna miss this place."

"You wouldn't if you had lived here your whole life," Arthur sighed.

"I think you'll miss it too," the younger man smiled. "It's only natural. This place has its downsides, but everywhere does. I shall remember it fondly."

"Oh?"

"It's where I met you."

The doctor's eyes grew wide, and he looked down to his teacup, flustered at the man's blatant honestly. Alfred had a tendency to do that to him; say something completely out of the blue without thinking about it, but then not expect any sort of reaction in return.

"Yes," Arthur said after a moment of silence, looking up to meet those too blue eyes filled with admiration. "I shall remember that as well."

* * *

There was quite the chaos surrounding a small family as they walked along the edge of the water. The smallest child kept trying to travel into the water unsupervised. The mother had taken to holding his hand. The father was rested on the beach.

"Would you _please_ help me look after _our_ children?" The mother hissed as she led her two children to stand by their father. He looked up at her uninterestedly, but nodded, seeming to notice her ill mood. The children sat beside him as their mother relaxed in the sun for a few minutes, and the small family admired the beautiful day spent together on the beach. Until a scream was heard.

Jolting up, the father was able to make out the form of the smallest child, already in over his head in the water. It seemed his few minutes of rest had proven unwise, for the father had dozed off by accident. His other child was screaming too, fearful for his brother. He started toward the water in a dead run, but knew he would be too late. His wife was already sobbing.

But then, the drowning child was lifted high into the sky, resting easily on a young man's shoulders. He carried the boy out of the water, and back onto the shore, setting him down beside his older brother and weeping mother. The father looked up to see his son's savior, and was met with a startling pair of ocean eyes.

"You should keep better watch on this little guy," the sandy blonde youth said happily. "He's a future adventurer, you know? We can't lose him if we're gonna keep expanding!"

"Ah, y-yes, thank you so much… I can never repay you for this…" the father started.

"Nonsense, Robert. Give this young man a reward! We can pay you- we're willing-" the mother began.

"No, I'm not interested in your money. Just remember what I said. Pay more attention, kay?"

They watched as the male made his way back across the white sand, and flopped beside another blonde man, who ruffled his hair affectionately. The two parents observed the pair for a moment, before the other man turned to look at them, and they felt a stab of fear. Even from so far away, his stare seemed rather…menacing. Hurriedly, they gathered their belongings, and went back toward their home. The father promised to read his children a bedtime story that night.

The two blondes across the way never seemed to stay in one place for long. No one actually seemed to know their names, or their motives. They were seen time to time, traveling area to area. Suspicions were raised, but no one ever seemed to pursue the pair. When they _were_ seen for long periods of time, it was noted the two never left each other's side.

And maybe that _was _mysterious, but pursuing them could prove dangerous. Unbeknownst to the community, anyone who got too close to the pair was never seen again.

_[Well that is that, and this is this. Will you tell me what you saw, and I'll tell you what you missed, when the ocean met the sky. You missed when time and life shook hands and said goodbye. When the earth folded in on itself. And said "Good luck, for your sake I hope heaven and hell are really there, but I wouldn't hold my breath." You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste death? You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste death? The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in? In your head, in your mouth, in your soul. The more we move ahead, the more we're stuck in rewind. Well I don't mind. I don't mind. How the hell could I mind? Well that is that and this is this. You tell me what you want and I'll tell you what you get. You get away from me. You get away from me. Well that is that and this is this. Will you tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what you missed, when the ocean met the sky. You wasted life, why wouldn't you waste the afterlife?]_

**_The End~_**

* * *

_ Sachi: *shoots fireworks!* Yeeeaaaauuuhhh, playas! We finished another story! Ah, you've all been asking me some questions, so let me explain a few things:_

_**Ripper victims: Mary Ann (Polly) Nichols- killed August 31**__**st**__**, 1888. **_

**_Annie Chapman- killed September 8_****_th_****_, 1888._**

**_Elizabeth Stride- killed September 30_****_th_****_, 1888._**

**_Catherine Eddows- killed September 30_****_th_****_, 1888._**

**_Mary Jane Kelly- November 9_****_th_****_, 1888._**

_I know there were some more alleged victims, but that's just it, they were alleged, and not proven. It was speculated the Ripper had many imitators. _

**_"Ripper" Letters: _**_There was the belief that the first letter was sent from the actual Ripper, but that the last few were not. The grammar and penmanship gradually regressed with each letter. The "Dear Boss" letter was the first, and also coined the name "Jack the Ripper". Other notable letters are the "Saucy Jack" and "From Hell" letters. _

_I know you probably want to know how they entered the States and were able to run around so much, and probably want to know about the killing done in America, but I feel it's best to leave on an ambiguous note. You can fill in the blanks yourself, because I'm afraid explaining too much will take away from the story, you know? Besides, back then, it wasn't exactly impossible to change your name and background. It wouldn't have been too hard for Alfred to change his last name and move across the country from his rich family! _

_America: YAY! Another complete story! Let's all go get burgers to celebrate!_

_England: *grimaces*_

_Sachi: Yes! Let's all get fat!_

_England: I'll just…drink this tea…_

_Sachi: Thanks for reading! Leave a review because you love me! Also, I hope you will all join me for my other UkUs stories! I already have two more published, and was attacked with an idea for an AWESOME one the other day. Until we meet again, my lovelies! (England would be proud. I'm totally drinking hot tea right now to embody his spirit! By the way, if you've not heard the UsUk drama CD… It's on Youtube. England's a screamer, haha. A sexy screamer! Helpful information for your everyday life! I finally joined the tumblr fiasco as well, so feel free to look me up! And don't judge by my lack of decoration. I just joined the site, and I'm teaching myself how to use it, haha. I'm sachi-sama, just like on here. Much love!)_


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